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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25621921">When Souls Intertwine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biak911/pseuds/Biak911'>Biak911</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Overwatch (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, BDSM, Demons, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Priests, WW2, War, World War II, priest/demon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:07:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>39,871</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25621921</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biak911/pseuds/Biak911</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years have passed after the war, and Father Siebren de Kuiper is still healing from the horrors he experienced in his hometown of Rotterdam, The Netherlands. The church in Tralee, Ireland, has served as his sanctuary, but lately, his peace has been stirred by an evil entity that hasn't only invaded his dreams, but also his curiosity.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Moira O'Deorain/Sigma | Siebren de Kuiper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>65</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello dear Readers,</p><p>Welcome to my second non one-shot SigMoira fic. Before you start reading, I must warn you that this fic will handle a lot of heavy themes that may not be suitable for those who are going through mental disorders and trauma. So please, if you are triggered by certain events, I urge you not to go through with this fic. Although I have yet to finish the story during the time I am writing this, I am already warning you that there will be chapters that will touch upon dark themes and subjects.</p><p>I will also be adding tags as the story goes. This is to prevents spoilers (hehe).</p><p>Thank you for reading this note. Now, on to the fic.</p><p>Sincerely,<br/>Biak911</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Prologue</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>The main entrance doors of the Tralee parish church slowly creaked open, allowing a steady stream of golden sunlight to enter the structure’s inner sanctum. The doors were made from the common ash—Ireland’s tallest native tree known for its durability and heft—so it took some time for whoever was pushing the doors to get them fully opened. As the person continued to complete this simple task, the rays of morning light gradually revealed what was inside the church. The cobblestone walls and floors that stretched from the narthex to the sacristy were still damp from last night’s light rain shower, causing them to turn into a darker shade of gray. Fortunately, the wood carvings of the Passion of the Christ that hung between the structure’s window frames were spared from the moisture, preventing the images from developing mold and wood rot. The church’s nave was only big enough to contain 5 chestnut wood pews on each side, as well as 3 statues of Ireland’s well-known saints. St. Brendan the Navigator was placed in the epistle side of the church while St. Brigid was stationed opposite to him in the gospel side. St. Oliver Plunkett’s statue, on the other hand, was placed beside the parish’s sole confessional; with his gentle eyes staring near the confessional’s entrance, reminding the penitent that God always forgives.</p><p>When the doors were finally fully opened, the sun illuminated the stained glass window that was behind the hanging crucifix above the altar, spreading colorful beams of light across the church interior. It also displayed the shadow of a man in the middle of the aisle. This man, who stood more than 6 feet tall, wiped the sweat above his brown brow. He then adjusted the white collar of his cassock and heaved heavy breaths each time he pulled it away from his neck. He was visibly tired, but maintained a victorious smile nonetheless. The man took a few steps forward and placed himself beside the last pew to his right. He knelt down, made the sign of the cross, and reached for the wooden crucifix that was connected to the rosary that was wrapped around his garb’s fascia. He held onto the edge of the pew and used it to help him stand. Once he was upright, he looked at the large crucifix in front of him, which was gleaming from all the light filling the church.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you for greeting us with another blessed day, Lord.” He said with a genuine smile.  “You’ve filled our humble parish with Your holy light once more.”</p><p> </p><p>The man walked around the church with his hands behind his back. He marveled at the different religious pieces with such fondness, that he didn’t mind that many of these items were in need of some repair. When he neared the confessional, he stopped before it and rested his palm on the wooden door that led to the booth’s right room. He then took one more glance at the empty pews behind him before entering the confessional.</p>
<hr/><p>The priest’s side of the confessional looked almost identical to the one of the penitent’s. It was big enough to fit two adults if they stood shoulder to shoulder, and there was a light switch located by the door that turned on a hanging orange incandescent light bulb above head. The only difference was that in the priest’s side there was a wooden chair with velvet upholstery while in the other side had a step on which the penitent will kneel on.</p><p>As the man entered the priest’s side, he turned on the light, revealing a dusty velvet seat in the center of his room. He patted the chair’s seat, sending clouds of dust into the air, and sat down. He gave out a light cough as he breathed in some of the particles lingering in the atmosphere before raising his head to the ceiling with his eyes closed. It was dim and quiet. But the silence only lasted for a few moments as the sound of the door opening from the penitent’s side caused the man to open his eyes.</p><p>When he heard the wooden step clack on the cobblestone floor, the man knew that the person in the other room was ready confess to her or his sins.</p><p>The man raised his right hand and made the sign of the cross in the air.</p><p> </p><p>“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, amen.” He and the penitent said in chorus.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello, my child.” The man greeted the penitent in a calm and peaceful voice. “God has graced us with a blessed morning, and His forgiving light is shining in our beloved church.” He continued, smiling at the curtain that divided him and the person in the other room. “It’s a sign from our Father, showing us His undying love and telling us that and He is always ready to forgive… So tell me, what ails your heart today?”</p><p> </p><p>The person in the penitent’s side swallowed the saliva that was forming in her or his throat before speaking.</p><p> </p><p>“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” He said in a way that muted his deep, full-bodied voice. “My last confession was… One week ago.”</p><p> </p><p><em>A week ago!? </em>The penitent’s words startled the man, causing him to sit at the edge of his seat and rubbed the brown beard on his chin. <em>Must be one of the local drunks again. Probably broke a tavern keeper’s property or gave a barmaid a flirtatious gibe. </em>The man adjusted himself on his seat once more. “Please continue, my child.” He said, crossing his arms above his chest.</p><p> </p><p>But the penitent didn’t say another word.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay… Take your time.”</p><p> </p><p>The man waited for a few seconds, hoping for the person next to him to finally say his sins. But after three minutes have passed, the penitent remained silent.</p><p> </p><p>The man couldn’t help but let his right leg bounce in sheer impatience, making the heel of his leather shoe tap in a timely fashion on the cobblestone floor. He then lifted the right sleeve of his cassock and watched the time tick on his wrist watch. “My child,” He said in a huff, “are you still there?”</p><p> </p><p>“Y…Yes Father. It’s just…”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you having trouble with your confession?” The man said, curling his tone and raising an eyebrow at the end. “If so, I can help ease you through the process.”</p><p>“No, it’s just…” The person’s mouth began to quiver. “…I don’t know what my sins are.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t know?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” The penitent shifted his weight, causing the wooden step to creak. “But it seems God is punishing me, so I am trying to recollect all the evil things I’ve done this past week.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well… What have you done this past week?” The man turned to the curtain and placed his hands on his knees. “Maybe if you tell me, it’ll help jog your memory, hm?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, I see…” The penitent then took a deep breath and told the man about his week. “Last Sunday, I woke up, fixed my bed, and then took my daily morning strolls. Then, I tended to the garden, and greeted the insects and small creatures that were congregating in the flower beds. The lunarias were looking particularly vibrant that day, so I—”</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, the man pulled the curtain to the side, revealing the face of the penitent he was speaking to through the lattice window. “Aha! I knew it!” The man triumphantly declared as he stood from his chair. “Siebren, what are you doing?”</p><p> </p><p>Siebren was startled by the man’s actions, but looked at him with his tired eyes. “F—Father Harold, I—”</p><p> </p><p>“Harold,” Father Harold said with a stern voice. “Didn’t I tell you to call me, Harold when we’re speaking in private?” He sat back down on the velvet chair and removed his glasses so he can rub his eyes with his thumb and index finger. “I can’t believe that you’re here again. Wasn’t your recent confession three days ago?”</p><p> </p><p> “Uhmm… Yes.” Siebren gulped down hard, which caused the white collar of his cassock to move. “But since I lied to you about my last confession, I have a reason to see you eh?” He said with a nervous laughter.</p><p> </p><p>Father Harold slumped deeper into his seat and let out a defeated groan. “Alright what seems to be troubling you this time?”</p><p> </p><p>Siebren lowered his head and looked at his twiddling thumbs. “I… I’ve been having nightmares again.” He whispered without looking at the Father.</p><p> </p><p>“Your dreams?” Father Harold propped back up to his seat and gave Siebren a serious look. “Were they the same? Were you dreaming about… the bombings again?” He said carefully, as if he knew his words could harm the penitent should he say it loudly. “You know, we don’t have to talk about this if you’re uncomf—”</p><p> </p><p>“No, Harold! It’s not about that.” Siebren interjected with haste; sweat dripped between his eyebrows and his body shuddered for a moment. He closed his eyes to recollect his thoughts before continuing. “… It was something else.”</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren calmed himself as well and rested himself on his seat. “Then what kind of dream was it?”</p><p> </p><p>Siebren fluttered his hands together, making his thumb joints clap together in agitation. “I think… I think I was dreaming about hell…”</p><p> </p><p>“Hell? Siebren, it’s normal to dream about hell.” Father Harold said matter-of-factly as he crossed his legs, which made his cassock’s skirt rustle. “People dream about that place when they’re scared, doubting God’s love, or when the immense feelings of guilt is eating them up inside.”</p><p> </p><p>“So… You think I’ve sinned?” Siebren asked genuinely.</p><p> </p><p>“Knowing you? No!” Father Harold chuckled. “You’re too kind of a man… But what makes you think that you have?”</p><p> </p><p>“… It’s because…” Siebren clammed up; he was hesitant to reveal his nightmares to the Father. But he knew that if he kept it to himself, he’ll continue to be tormented in his sleep. “… I was being tortured.” He finally said as he slowly parted his lips. “I saw myself hanging on a cross with ropes, as little red creatures danced around me…. I was stranded on an island surrounded by fire and brimstone, with the flames of hell whipping my exposed chest… And as I tried to cry for God’s help, my throat became dry, and I couldn’t speak!”</p><p> </p><p>As Siebren gradually unveiled the images he saw in his dream, Father Harold hunched forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and placed his hands under his chin. He was listening intently and did his best to imagine the horrors Siebren experienced in his sleep.</p><p> </p><p>“But then… I suddenly heard a voice.” Siebren uttered with slight astonishment.</p><p> </p><p>“A voice? What did the presence sound like? Did it say anything?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oddly enough, it didn’t.” Siebren responded with a pang of unease building up in his stomach. “It just… laughed at me… As if it enjoyed to see me suffer.”</p><p> </p><p>“I see… Is there anything else?”</p><p> </p><p>“No. That’s when I woke up in a cold sweat.”</p><p> </p><p>Father Harold looked at Siebren and realized his head was still hanging low. “Siebren, look at me.”</p><p> </p><p>Siebren was reluctant to look at Father Harold in the eye.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s alright. We’re in a safe space, remember?”</p><p> </p><p>When Siebren was reminded that he was in the process of confessing his sins, it helped lull the uneasiness brewing in his mind. He lifted his head timidly, showing Father Harold the pallor of his face and the dark, puffy circles under his bloodshot eyes. His tired expression was made even clearer with the deep creases his wrinkles created on his forehead, cheeks, and the sides of his eyes. His head was sweaty, causing the bangs of his thin grey hair stick to his temples.</p><p> </p><p>“Goodness!” Father Harold jolted in his seat when he saw Siebren’s weary state. “When was the last time you’ve had a good night’s sleep?”</p><p> </p><p>“In all honesty … I’m not so sure.”</p><p> </p><p>Siebren’s answer caused Father Harold let out a warm, heavy breath out of his nose. “Well, then I think you should leave now and get some rest.” Father Harold said without a trace of doubt in his voice.</p><p> </p><p>“But… But my penance?”</p><p> </p><p>“Siebren, you didn’t do anything wrong.”</p><p> </p><p>“Please, Harold.” Siebren begged. “It’ll help me stay at peace.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine…” Father Harold sighed. He crossed his arms once more and gave Siebren’s penance some thought. “Say three Hail Marys and one Our Father.”</p><p> </p><p>Upon realizing his light sentence, Siebren was left aghast. “But that’s so simple!”</p><p> </p><p>“As I’ve said, you didn’t do anything to wrong God.” Father Harold reiterated. “You’re probably being too hard on yourself again. It can cause you anxiety, you know. And we don’t want that to happen, do we now?”</p><p> </p><p>“… No…”</p><p> </p><p>“Good. After you’ve said your penance, I want you to go back to the garden and tend to your flowers.” Father Harold added. “I’ll have Father Baptiste bring you your breakfast there. We can’t start mass on an empty stomach.” He laughed, slapping his right thigh.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course. Thank you, Harold.” Siebren stood up, pushing down on his left knee for support, and glanced at the priest. His expression painted with an ounce of doubt.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ll be fine, Siebren. Now go! I know how the lunarias and tulips give you joy.”</p><p> </p><p>And with that, Siebren gave Father Harold a bow before exiting the confessional.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>When Souls Intertwine is inspired by Nekitoototo's demon Moira and priest Siebren drawings, and the RP between<br/>✞Father【DeKuiper】and 𝕸𝖔𝖎𝖗𝖆 ₳Ʉ • OIͶOMƎᗡ on Twitter. Thank you guys so much again for giving me the spark to write this story! Check out their Twitter pages and give them a follow! &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3</p><p>P.S </p><p>MAJOR EDIT MADE IN PROLOGUE: Changed Father Patrick to Father Baptiste. I forgot to change it when I posted it, sorry.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> “… Oh, good morning, Father Siebren.” A pale man standing next to the penitent’s side of the confessional gurgled. He wore a brown fleece jacket—which was giving off the lingering scent alcohol—over denim overalls and a dark green plaid shirt. His left hand was holding a chunk of ice wrapped in a thin cotton towel over his left eye while the other hand was tucked inside the right pocket of his jacket.</p><p> </p><p>The second Father Siebren stepped out of the confessional, he turned to the person who greeted him and gave him his salutations in return. “Ah, good morning, Rory.” He said with a warm smile and a sudden change in disposition. “Back again to confess your sins?”</p><p> </p><p>“… Yes…” Rory answered, diverting his eyes to the side, revealing his guilt.</p><p> </p><p>“Another incident with the barmaids in The Squalid Finch?”</p><p> </p><p>Rory responded with reluctant nods.</p><p> </p><p>When Father Siebren figured out Rory’s reason for being in the church before the first Sunday mass of the month, he didn’t know whether to rejoice for his correct assumption or feel sorry for Rory’s cruel hangover. He took a deep sigh. “Rory,” he uttered with a disappointed look on his face, “haven’t we discussed about your drinking problem before?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, we have!” Rory answered with a low growl; he was now staring at the priest straight in the eyes. “But I just can’t help it father. Whenever I pass by the tavern, I can hear the tankard’s sweet, sweet voice calling me, telling me to guzzle down a few pints with the boys.”</p><p> </p><p>“And what happens when we fall into temptation?” Father Siebren slowly reached for the hand that was covering Rory’s left eye and pulled it away from his face, exposing a heavily bruised left eye. It was swollen and sensitive, and judging by the skin’s purple and blue gradients, it gave Rory intense discomfort.</p><p> </p><p>With his injury now in full display for the whole world to see, Rory felt a rush of shame rise up to his chest. “It was the barmaid’s fault, alright!” He said, pulling his wrist away from the priest’s gentle grasps. “I was just being friendly, and then she decided to sock me in the eye!”</p><p> </p><p>Although Father Siebren was standing almost 8 feet tall and flaunted a muscular build, he never used his rugged figure as a tool to intimidate the church’s congregants. Many of the people in Tralee had a way of getting on the clergy’s nerves. Rory, for example, has become notorious for spitting at the faces of the church’s laymen when they asked for offertory during mass. However, whenever he’s confronted by Father Siebren, his tenacious attitude would simmer down.</p><p> </p><p>“Rory…” Father Siebren spoke in a soft tone. “Is the pain still lingering?”</p><p> </p><p>“In my eye? What do you think!?” Rory exclaimed; Father Siebren can pick up the frustration in his voice. “She punched me at around two in the morning, so of course I can still feel—”</p><p> </p><p>“NOT THAT!” Father Siebren growled, generating an echo that made the stained glass shiver. He then looked at Rory—who was now wearing a terrified expression on his face— and felt the acid in the pit of his stomach bubble. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to raise my voice.” He said in a whisper.  “What I meant to ask was… Can you still feel the discomfort in your right arm?”</p><p> </p><p>Rory was stunned by Father Siebren’s question, causing him to dig his right arm further into his jacket’s pocket. But the longer he stared at the priest’s caring, light blue eyes, he slowly removed his right arm from his garment’s receptacle and raised it towards the holy man. In turn, Father Siebren rolled up the right sleeve on Rory’s jacket, unveiling an amputated arm.</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren gently took Rory’s arm in his hand and examined the limb. “It’s been bothering you lately, hasn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>Although Father Siebren was being careful, Rory can feel a stinging pain each time the priest lightly pressed his skin. “I… I keep… I keep dreaming about it.” Rory stated, stammering between each word. “Whenever I close my eyes… I keep seeing myself in the front lines again.” Rory can feel a lump of saliva forming in his throat. He tried to swallow it down, but the memories that haunted him left his mouth trembling agape. “I keep seeing my friends… They were all smiling…” His voice and his entire body began to shake. “But then, their faces would melt... Slowly their skin would peel away followed by their tissues and muscles… Until all that was left were their skulls...”</p><p> </p><p>“Rory?” Father Siebren called.</p><p> </p><p>Rory didn’t respond. His dilated green eyes were staring blankly into space.</p><p> </p><p>“Rory!” Father Siebren grabbed the stunned man by his shoulders and shook him to get him out of his nightmare.</p><p> </p><p>Once Rory was released from the hallucination that shackled him into place, he looked at Father Siebren and began to weep. “Father… I keep seeing them when I’m asleep… I keep thinking about them when I’m awake…” He lets go of the ice in his left hand before falling down to his knees and trembling before the priest. “I can’t… I can’t take this torture any further!” He howled; his hands were clawing on the cobblestone floor now. “I should’ve died with them! I SHOULD’VE DIED WITH THEM!”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s enough, Rory!” The priest knelt down to meet Rory in the eye. “You shouldn’t say such things.” He whispered. “There is a reason why you are still here; why God has given you another chance in life.” Father Siebren held Rory by the shoulders once more and helped him to his feet. “And we’ll help you search for that reason, Rory. So you can’t just give up now.” He then reached for the melting chunk of ice, which was still wrapped around by the cloth, and handed it back to Rory.</p><p> </p><p>Rory took the cloth and held it over his left eye. “I- I’m sorry, Father. It’s just… I don’t know how much more I can take.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s alright. We all go through times of weakness.”</p><p> </p><p>“… Father?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Rory?”</p><p> </p><p>“D… Don’t you get nightmares about the war?” Rory asked with a bit of uncertainty in his tone like a child afraid to ask a taboo question to his parent.</p><p> </p><p>“… Yes, I do.” Father Siebren answered before exhaling hot air from his nose.</p><p> </p><p>“… How do you handle them?” Rory asked with pleading eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren took a few seconds of silence to think of a suitable answer. And once he was finished formulating his response in his head, he looked at Rory and rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “… Whenever I find myself trapped in my memories, I always pray to God and ask Him for the strength and guidance to help me find his light.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Heh</em>…” A condescending laugh escaped Rory’s lips. “If only prayer worked as quickly as a bottle of whiskey.”</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren smirked at Rory’s response. “We’ll come back to your alcohol problems in another day. But for now, I want you to behave while you’re confessing to Father Harold, alright? The last time you confessed to him, he said you almost broke the lattice window.”</p><p> </p><p>“… I’ll try, Father.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good!” Father Siebren then straightened Rory’s brown fleece jacket by pulling down on its lapels, before raising a hand over his head. “Bless Rory today, Lord, so he may find his way back to your loving arms. Amen.”</p><p> </p><p>And with that, Father Siebren left Rory to confess his sins and took his leisure to head down to the church’s garden.</p>
<hr/><p><em>[Johann Sebastian Bach - </em>Cantata No. 147: Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring<em>]</em></p><p> </p><p>The church Father Siebren was serving in was of a moderate size. Like its interior, its exterior walls were made of cobblestone, with some of its sections covered in damp moss and vines. Its right side featured a bell tower that housed the church’s large brass bell, which was rung to signal the people of Tralee that mass was about to begin and during the liturgy. To its left was a stoned pathway that led to the different areas of the church’s compound. There, people would find the way to the cemetery, vegetable garden, flower garden, candle area, as well as the seminary where the priest’s quarters were located.</p><p> </p><p>It was a cool, sunny spring day in Tralee, making it the perfect day to admire the flowers in the garden. Thinking about the vibrant colors of the different flora he planted weeks ago was enough to give Father Siebren an infectious smile on his face and a spring in his step. He greeted everyone he passed by with a joyous hello and a wave. And when he was strolling alone, he’d look up to the heavens and thank the Lord for the calm blue sky above him.</p><p> </p><p>When he arrived at garden, he was greeted by the sounds of water trickling in a marble fountain that featured statues of cherubs playing in the ornamental structure’s biggest tier. The fountain’s serene display was inviting him to sit by the lowest tier and admire images that were reflecting in the water. However, the first thing he did was approach a bed of yellow tulips, which was situated beside one of the three stone benches in the garden. He crouched down and examined the petals of the flowers nearest to his feet, and smiled when he saw a small swarm of honeybees and butterflies getting their first taste of nectar of the day. Gazing at the tulips and smelling their fragrant scent seemed to put his mind in a state of calm. It also made him reminisce about simpler times like playing football in the busy streets of Rotterdam with his childhood friends, and not caring about being scolded by his neighbors. Afterwards, he turned his attention to the violet lunarias, which were located in the opposite side of the tulips, and did the same. Once he was finished, he walked towards the other spring flowers—white magnolias, pink pulmonarias, and orange rhododendrons—before taking a seat in one of the benches. He then looked at the fountain, closed his eyes, and let the sound of the tranquil water slowly drift him to sleep.</p><p> </p><p>After being tormented by his nightmare for several nights, taking a few minutes in the morning to relax gave him enough energy to make it through the day. This particular spring Sunday felt perfect; at least to Father Siebren. The sun was shining upon his cheeks, the soft wind was making his gray strands of his hair flutter, and a handful of song thrushes decided to bathe in the fountain in front of him. It was tranquil and quiet.</p><p> </p><p><em>Just a few minutes. </em>He thought with a smile on his face.  <em>That’s all I need.</em></p><p> </p><p>But just when Father Siebren was about to doze off, he heard the sound of footsteps disturbing the stones on the pathway. He knew that whoever it was, the person wasn’t there to observe the flowers. So, he took a deep, defeated sigh and opened his eyes. “Good morning, Father Baptiste.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good morning, Father Siebren!” Father Baptiste responded with a warm smile on his face while holding a plate of stroopwafels in the right hand and a saucer with a hot cup of coffee in the left. </p><p> </p><p>Father Baptiste was wearing the same black cassock as his fellow priests in the church, but his wooden rosary was wrapped around his right wrist. He stood almost 5 feet, 9 inches tall, was well-built, and he looked younger compared to the other priests. His short, coily brown hair was strong and thick, and his beard, which he groomed with great care, complemented the healthy glow of his brown skin.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m here with your breakfast!” Father Baptiste placed the dishes beside Father Siebren. “Five stroopwafels and a cup of coffee with a splash of milk and three lumps of sugar. Just the way you like it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you.” Father Siebren took his coffee and held it in front of his face. He stirred the cup to allow the beverage’s rich aroma waft into his nostrils and reinvigorate his mind to help him stay awake. He then grabbed a piece of stroopwafel and placed the sweet treat on top of his cup, letting the drink’s heat melt the cookie’s gooey caramel center. “Come, sit down and help yourself.” He said while licking some crumbs off his thumb.</p><p> </p><p>Father Baptiste obliged and sat next to his fellow priest, leaving the plate of stroopwafels between them. As he reached for a sweet treat, Father Baptiste observed the garden and marveled at the different flora surrounding them. “I’m glad Father Harold decided to put you on garden duty,” he said, taking a bite of his stroopwafel, “you’ve certainly brought the life back to this area of the church.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, Father Harold knew that I needed to keep my hands and mind busy.” Father Siebren responded as he watched Father Baptiste finish his stroopwafel and grab another one. “Besides, it helps keep the noises in my head out… Which reminds me, what time is it?”</p><p> </p><p>Father Baptiste quickly finished his second stroopwafel and checked the time on his wrist watch which was strapped around his left wrist. “It’s 7:30.”</p><p> </p><p>“I see.” Father Siebren grabbed the stroopwafel on top of his cup and took a small bite. “We still have a few minutes before mass starts.” He finished his treat and took a sip of his coffee before placing his cup of coffee back down on the stone bench. He then took out a vintage bronze alarm pocket watch from his cassock’s right pocket and tinkered with it.</p><p> </p><p>Father Baptiste noticed how Father Siebren was carefully moving the dials of his pocket watch and gave out a light laugh. “Haven’t you had that fixed?” He asked, grabbing another stroopwafel.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Siebren quickly answered; still fiddling around with the device, “and I don’t think I want to get it fixed.”</p><p> </p><p>“How come?” Father Baptiste said with a mouthful of stroopwafel. “A new watch will help you keep track of time better.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know. But I’m so used to this item’s quirks that it has become a part of my daily routine.” When Father Siebren had the watch at his preferred setting, he returned to his coffee and took another sip. “I also think you young folk should learn to appreciate the value of antiques.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I appreciate old things,” said Father Baptiste as he grabbed the last stroopwafel, “it’s just that it’ll be more convenient for you if you got yourself a more functional watch.”</p><p> </p><p>“Like I said, I’m used to this watch’s quirks, so there is really no need for a replacement.” Father Siebren drank more of his coffee until the cup was left half empty. “How did you like the stroopwafels?”</p><p> </p><p>“They’re delicious!” Father Baptiste exclaimed. “I’m glad you taught Mrs. Murphy how to make them so we can always have them in morning.” He then reached out in hopes to get another piece of the treat. But when he realized that the plate was empty, he looked at Father Siebren who was giving him a sly smile. “Oh, sorry Father.” He scratched the back of his head while laughing nervously. “I just couldn’t help myself. I can run back to the kitchen and get you some more.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s fine.” Father Siebren said with a smile. He then took a deep sigh and returned his attention to the fountain. “As payment for finishing my breakfast, I’d like you to join me and enjoy the company of the flowers and creatures in silence before mass starts.”</p><p> </p><p>Given their wide age gap, Father Baptiste wasn’t the type of person who’d enjoy taking a few minutes to sit and meditate. His youthful energy made him restless, and his mind kept telling his body that he needed to keep busy with his hands and feet. Nevertheless, he obliged.</p><p> </p><p>The two priests were enveloped by the peace given by that particular spring Sunday, keeping thoughts in a steady stream of tranquility. However, exactly 29 minutes after Father Siebren tinkered with his alarm pocket watch, his device sounded off. He opened his eyes, letting his vision escape the blur created by his dried tears, and looked at Father Baptiste who was already wide awake and beaming with a smile.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s alright, Father Siebren. I’ll watch the bell.”</p><p> </p><p>With Father Baptiste’s reassurance, Father Siebren covered his ears without a trace of worry on his face, and focused his sights on the yellow tulips beside him. Father Baptiste then looked at the bell tower and waited for its toll. </p><p> </p><p>Not a moment too soon, the bell rang, signaling the people of Tralee that the first mass of the day was about to start. Four intense rings, which were 1 to 2 seconds apart, disturbed the silence—startling the birds that were perching from the tower’s roof. The bell was loud and out of tune, waking the people who were still sleeping in from the comforts of their sheets. Father Baptiste kept his eye on the bronze bell and didn’t take his sights away from it until it swung slowly and come to a full stop.</p><p> </p><p>Once the bell has halted its call, Father Baptist placed a hand on Father Siebren’s shoulder and shook it softly. “It’s finished, Father. We can attend mass now.”</p>
<hr/><p>The bell in the church of Tralee served an important purpose. Although one of its main functions is to create a joyous noise during the liturgy, the bells is as old as the town itself. Due to its connection to the town’s heritage, no one dared to replace it; even if it had a large crack on its side; even if it caused the nightmares of the war to resurface. Thus, those who are affected by its noise had to learn how to work around its toll. And for the church, it was Father Siebren’s duty to warn those who have been haunted by the memories of war that the bell was about to be rung. When the bell was about to be rung in mass, Father Siebren would cover his ears, so the others would do the same. And when Father Harold would nod to him after the ringing has ceased, Father Siebren would lower his hands, announcing the bell has returned to a state of calm.</p>
<hr/><p>Father Harold raised his hands and blessed the churchgoers. “Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks be to God!” The churchgoers answered before leaving their pews.</p><p> </p><p>Now that mass was done, Father Harold removed the green stole that was over his white alb and carried it around his right arm. He then walked towards Father Siebren who was talking to some of the churchgoers.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, Father Siebren, may I have a word?” Said Father Harold.</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren excused himself from the small crowd he was speaking to and turned to Father Harold. “Yes, Father Harold?”</p><p> </p><p>“Do we have everything ready for tomorrow?”</p><p> </p><p>“Almost,” Father Siebren answered with a warm smile, “we just need to fix some of the extra rooms and make sure that the driver picking up the guests know when to fetch them.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good, good,” Father Harold placed and arm around his fellow priest’s shoulders, “do you have anything else to do today?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I do!” Father Siebren gleamed. “After mass, I was tasked to head to the market and order the ingredients for tomorrow’s feast. It’s also my turn to visit the veterans in the hospital.”</p><p> </p><p>“I see…” Father Harold said as he rubbed his chin with his right hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Once I’m done with my tasks in town, Mrs. Murphy also asked me if I can teach her any more baking recipes. She seems to like my country’s baked goods.”</p><p> </p><p>“Siebren, if I may,” Father Harold suddenly interjected as he pulled Father Siebren closer to his side, “I think we should change your duties for today.”</p><p> </p><p>“How come?” Father Siebren, held Father Harold by the wrist to remove his arm around his shoulders. “I was looking forward to them.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know but… You lack sleep, Siebren. I can see it in your eyes.” Father Harold moved in closer and stared at the bags under Father Siebren’s tired eyes, which made him look like he was punched in the face. “And we know what happens if you don’t get enough rest.”</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren wanted to protest. He knew that visiting town was something that he needed to break his cycle of being cooped up in the church. He knew that if he was able to interact with the people of Tralee, it could help silence the nightmares in his head. However, he also knew that his fellow priest was telling the truth. When his mind is stressed, his visions of horror becomes more powerful.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh… yes, of course…” Said Father Siebren with an exasperated sigh; his face carrying the look of disappointment “Then what do you want me to do today?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, we did receive a new shipment of books for the library and we need someone to organize them.” Father Harold rested a hand on Father Siebren’s shoulder and did his best to make his predicament less unpleasant. “Hey, cheer up. The library is the perfect place to clear your mind. It’s quiet and no one will disturb you there.” He then patted his friend’s shoulder. “And don’t worry, I’ll have Father Baptiste take care of your duties in town. I’ll also tell Mrs. Murphy to reschedule your baking session.”</p>
<hr/><p>Father Siebren disliked having his plans cancelled last minute. It would take him days to mentally prepare himself for tasks that demands a lot of energy from him, so when Father Harold asked him to do something else, he felt like all his preparations were for naught. Nevertheless, he’d rather take this slight inconvenience than possibly face the memories that tormented him almost every day. Thus, when he entered the library, which was located in the second floor of the seminary, he took a deep breath and took his new assignment with newfound optimism.</p><p> </p><p>Although the library is the most recent addition to the seminary, it looked as if no one has cleaned it in months. Many of the books were old, musty, and hidden in the hard to reach compartments of most of the bookshelves. The newer books, on the other hand, were scattered and stacked all over the three large oak tables in the center of the room. Father Siebren approached the table that was before him, looked at the stack of books that towered over him and began doing his task with a determined smile.</p><p> </p><p>It only took Father Siebren 5 minutes before he found the right rhythm that helped him organize the books more efficiently. He first divided the books by size, then by theme, then in alphabetical order before placing them in the shelves. He was so into his task that by the time he had finished, he failed to notice that it was already getting dark.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s that late already?” He said, looking out of the cast stone window that overlooked the garden. He then took out his alarm pocket watch and tinkered with it. “Switching my task has messed up my routine.” He tutted under his nose.</p><p> </p><p>When he was done tinkering with his device, he left the library and retired to his bedroom.</p>
<hr/><p>As a man of the cloth, Father Siebren’s quarters followed the rules of simplicity. So all the items in his room were the things he only needed. His room had a wooden cabinet, which was stationed a few feet next to the door while a wooden desk and chair were pushed against the wall that was opposite to the entryway. On top of the desk was a bowl, a white cotton hand towel, and a pitcher of water; items that were always delivered in the afternoon by the priest in charge of the task. There was one cast stone window in the left-hand side, which allowed slivers of moonlight to shine upon the cobblestone floors. And his bed, which he arranged neatly this morning, was waiting to catch his tired body and lull him into a deep slumber. The bed’s standard profile mattress and soft white sheets were inviting. And Father Siebren found it difficult to hesitate their calls.</p><p> </p><p>However, just like every good priest, he needed to say his bedtime prayer before calling it a night. Thus, he approached the wooden desk, used the items to get himself cleaned up, and walked to the edge of his bed. He then placed his pocket watch on the desk, knelt down before the side of his bed, clasped his hands together, and said his nightly prayer.</p><p> </p><p><em>Lord, thank you for this blessed day. Your grace shone upon the flowers in the garden, as well as the bird’s morning songs… Although my plans today didn’t push through, I am grateful that Father Harold thought about my well-being. I’m sure you gave him a gentle reminder. </em>He chuckled in his head.</p><p> </p><p>“… Lord…”</p><p> </p><p>He suddenly whispered between his folded hands.</p><p> </p><p>“I am not one to ask for much… But tonight… May I receive more pleasant dreams?”</p><p> </p><p>His voice trembled and his throat left dry.</p><p> </p><p>“These nightmares… I don’t understand… Am I being punished?”</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren looked towards the ceiling as if the sign he was waiting for could be seen between the cracks of the stone’s surface. But he was answered by the chill of the silence in his room. He then gave a deep sigh and made a sign of the cross before getting himself to bed.</p><p> </p><p>Once he was under his blanket, he gazed upon the same cracks on the ceiling; still hoping for a sign from God, telling him his reason for giving him his hellish nightmare. As he continued to look between the cracks, he could sense his tired eyes could no longer stay open. Eventually, he fell asleep and began to dream.</p><p> </p><p>For The first few minutes, his mind was presented with a backdrop of nothingness. However, a white light suddenly glimmered at the distance, coaxing his unconscious to come closer. As his mind crept towards the light, he felt a slight elation during his sleep. The light was warm and comforting, giving him faith that it’ll lead him to a pleasant dream. Unfortunately, when he entered the light, he found himself in hell once more. Again, he was strapped on a wooden cross and was being danced around by the same troupe of little red creatures. Only this time, he was wearing nothing but his black trousers.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As a child, Father Siebren imagined hell to be a place covered in fire and brimstone. He visualized the souls of the damned were held by fiery chains that burst from the cracks between the inferno’s magmatic floor. He also thought that the corpses of the wretched filled hell’s sky of endless red sulfur with their screams of horror and mercy. At least that’s what the priests told the children in his hometown. But now that he has visited hell in his dreams a number of times, most of what he was taught about Lucifer’s lair wasn’t what he had imagined.</p><p> </p><p>From the island where he was bound, he was surrounded by nothing but a sea of lava. He can see the silhouettes of jagged mountainsides from the corners of his eyes, but the longer he looked at them, the heat from the hellfire caused his eyes to dry up. His Dutch upbringing made it difficult to withstand hell’s blazing temperatures, causing sweat to drip down from his chiseled bare chest and arms.</p><p> </p><p>Above him were the thick clouds of the inferno’s endless red sulfur. But instead of the wails of corpses, the sky was filled with the screeches of large skeletal birds that would occasionally fly over the island—providing the devil with round the clock surveillance. And just below his feet were the red creatures who have been dancing around his cross, who were always the first things he saw whenever he entered his nightmare. Typically, they’d be around a dozen of them, heckling at his helpless state and poking his feet with their horns or small pitchforks. But tonight, there were only 7 of them.</p><p> </p><p>“No… Not this again…” Father Siebren trembled.</p><p> </p><p>The biggest of the creatures sensed the priest’s despair in his voice and ordered the rest of the creatures to stop celebrating. Although these demonic beasts shared a similar physical appearance—a rabbit-like top half with goat legs and cloven hooves—the largest of the creatures had eight eyes and tiny demon wings.</p><p> </p><p>The creature flew up to Father Siebren’s face and observed his features. It hovered to his left side, then to his right before lingering back to the center.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, yes,” the creature’s high pitch squeal for a voice made the priest’s ears shudder, “Mistress has chosen a great specimen.” The creature flew closer to Father Siebren and nuzzled the priest’s left cheek with its bunny nose. “I can sense the man’s purity! Yes, yes, an excellent choice, indeed.”</p><p> </p><p>When the larger creature announced its findings, the rest rejoiced and  continued on with their merriment.</p><p> </p><p>It was the first time Father Siebren has ever heard any of the creatures speak, and it made his situation all the more unnerving. He was surprised that the demons had a level of intellect, which gave him the impression that they had the capacity to think and do things for themselves. Being encircled by these creatures who are known to torture him with their impish ways was already causing his anxiety to spike. And now that he realized that their intelligence allowed them to do so much more, he closed his eyes shut and began saying the Lord’s Prayer to calm his racing heart.</p><p> </p><p>“Our Father, who art in heaven,” his voice shook as every word escaped his lips, “hallowed be your name; thy kingdom come; thy will be done; on earth as it is in heaven.”</p><p> </p><p>As Father Siebren continued with his prayer, the creatures stopped with their merrymaking and stared at him.</p><p> </p><p>Though the priest was visibly trembling in his restraints, he said his prayer with great conviction. It made him believe that his words can pierce through hell’s sulfur infested sky and hope; hope that his prayer reaches the all mighty Father in heaven and send him a band of angels to his rescue. But although he said each word of the Lord’s Prayer like the ever faithful servant that he was, he realized that his pleas fell onto deaf ears. Because the moment he opened his eyes, there was no veil of light that fell from the heavens; no sounds of trumpets to usher in the angels’ descent. Instead, all he heard was the high pitched cackle of the creatures who were now rolling on the floor.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Hah! </em>He thinks his prayers have power in the dark one’s lair!” One guffawed.</p><p> </p><p>“Pitiful human,” another injected, trying to catch its breath, “what makes him think that the angels have jurisdiction here!?”</p><p> </p><p>While the creatures’ banters escalated, a dark cloud of purple smoke suddenly crept before their feet. The largest of the creatures took notice and pushed one of its companions to get the entire group’s attention.</p><p>“Quick, the Mistress is coming!” It said with urgency.</p><p> </p><p>When the larger demon warned the others about their Mistress’ presence, they immediately stopped their jeers and scurried around the ground to form a straight line parallel to the wooden cross. And as the priest watched the creatures move about like their rabbit halves, the acid in his stomach began to boil.  </p><p> </p><p><em>Their Mistress!? </em>Father Siebren had never heard them mention their Mistress before, let alone seen her. And the fact that he was encountering her for the first time sent chills all over his body. Nothing in the good book mentioned any “Mistress” in hell; nor these rabbit-goat hybrid creatures for that matter. So he had no idea what type of evil being will emerge from the smoke. Will it have a devil’s tail? What about horns? Will its skin be redder than the sulfuric sky above? And what of its teeth? Will it be strong, jagged, and horrendous enough to crush human bone?</p><p>But whatever image he had thought up never compared to what the creatures’ Mistress actually looked like. Because the moment she stepped out of the purple cloud in front of him, he was surprised that she almost looked like a complete human being.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>[Niccolò Paganini - Caprice No. 24]</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The first thing Father Siebren saw was the Mistress’ goat legs. They were brown, fuzzy, and had cloven hooves just like her creatures’, but unlike her demon servants, her goat half only reached her mid-thigh. Next, he noticed that she was wearing a revealing dress—a black sleeveless turtle neck column dress—that showed off her svelte frame, as well as the curves and skin of her sensuous hips. Finally, her face. The mistress had sharp and angular facial features, as well as a regal bone structure, which gave her the ability to send an entire room of people fall into silence the moment she makes an entrance. Her curved, ram-like horns surpassed the length of her short, swept back, fiery red hair. And her eyes, which the priest found were the most human yet strangest parts of her appearance, had the uncanniest hues. Her right iris was as red as hellfire, but the left was as blue as the sky just before sunrise.</p><p> </p><p>Once she has fully showed herself, the purple cloud surrounding them dispersed in an instant. It was as if her presence summoned an earthly wind out of nowhere. She then took a few steps forward, looked at her underlings, and smiled—revealing her sharp-edged incisors.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello, my loyal attendants,” she said in her deep, sultry voice, “have you been taking great care of our guest?”</p><p> </p><p>The largest of the creatures flapped its tiny demon wings and flew to the Mistress. “Yes, Mistress!” it answered with such glee, “we kept him company and entertained him for a bit.” It then looked at the priest and snickered. “But it seems he doesn’t appreciate our little show.”</p><p> </p><p>The Mistress gazed upon the priest who was still shaking on the wooden cross and gave him a wry smile. When their eyes met, Father Siebren felt the mischief in the Mistress’ heterochromatic orbs, which sent a surge of uneasiness in his chest. The Mistress can visibly see him squirm in his restraints.</p><p> </p><p>She then scratched the creature under its chin with her sharp, and long purple nail and cooed at the beast. “Thank you, my pet. It is quite a shame that he didn’t enjoy your performance… Perhaps I can do something to help him feel at ease?”</p><p> </p><p>With her hands behind her back and head held high, the Mistress strutted her way to the priest; her devil’s tail swinging side to side with each step. Each time Father Siebren heard her cloven hooves crunch before the igneous surface, his head would twitch. The sound reminded him of the time when he was walking on rubble that covered the streets of Rotterdam on that grim March afternoon.</p><p> </p><p>Once the Mistress was standing right in front of the priest, she leaned in closer to the crook of his right neck and took a good whiff of his scent. “Ahhh…” she expelled a low growl in that warm breath, “This man is exuding with so much purity…”</p><p> </p><p>As she pulled herself away from his neck, her luscious words lingered in Father Siebren’s ear, delivering a sensation that tingled his nerves. Her tone was deep, and it had a sharpness to it that enabled her voice to penetrate through a thin layer of his pious nature. Her actions caused him to jolt, but since his arms and feet were tied to the wooden cross, the ropes squeaked from their tight binding and chafed his skin. Never had he thought that a voice had that power to challenge his priesthood, and he knew that it was a sin to be swayed by her words… And yet, it made his body crave for her to speak just a little bit more.</p><p> </p><p>Upon seeing his reaction, the Mistress let out a light chuckle. “My, my, is that all it takes to excite a holy man?” She then turned her attention to his hardened pectorals, which mesmerized her as they rose and fell with each breath he took. “Curious,” she began drawing on the priest’s chest using her fingernail to trace invisible lines on his skin, “I’d never thought a man of the cloth can be this… Rugged.” She licked her red lips with the tip of her tongue to confirm her satisfaction.</p><p> </p><p>As she continued to tantalize his chest, Father Siebren’s blood began coursing through his veins. He felt his heart beating faster; his breathing more sporadic. The circular motions of her finger made his thoughts swirl in his head. And the longer she played with him, the warmer his body got and the more agitated he became. When he finally reached his threshold, he used all of his mental strength to calm his mind so he can free himself from the Mistress’ grasps. But when he tried to speak, his mouth became dry due to the uncomfortable closeness between him and her. He felt more helpless now.</p><p> </p><p>The priest’s reactions were everything the Mistress wanted. Seeing a man of God writhe under her power gave her a dominative energy that filled every fiber of her being. She wanted more. From his chest, the Mistress glided her hand down to the priest’s stomach and rubbed her warm palm against his toned abs. Then, she gradually slithered down to his lower abdomen before reaching for the zipper of his pants.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait!” Father Siebren exerted all his might in order to speak. “P… Please… Don’t.”</p><p> </p><p>The Mistress held the zipper between her fingers and looked at the priest with her eyes filled with hunger. “Are you certain?” She said, slowly unzipping his pants. “Because it seems you don’t want me to stop.”</p><p> </p><p>The Mistress inserted her hand in the zipper’s opening and clutched the priest by his groin. Her hand immediately felt the heat that emanated from the holy man’s genitals, resulting her to produce a smile that bared her incisors. She was enamored by its size and began imagining the bulge it would create on the priest’s thick garment when at full mast. Just the thought of it sent a bolt of excitement through her body, causing her to tighten her grasp.</p><p> </p><p>The constriction made Father’s Siebren’s phallus and body tremble. “<em>Hnnng… </em>N—No… P— Please… Stop…” He begged, trying to control his raspy grunts from escaping between his lips.</p><p> </p><p>The Mistress didn’t heed his pleas and instead, pulled his penis out of his pants and began stroking it by its shaft. Now that she can see his full length, she tickled his skin with her sharp fingernails, making the priest squirm.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Nnnngh, ahhhhh…” </em>When Father Siebren looked down, his eyes widened in disbelief. Seeing his penis being pleasured by the Mistress shocked him. Because of his profession and old age, erotic scenes—like what he’s witnessing—never crossed his mind. But now that he’s receiving stimulation, and from a demon no less, he and his body didn’t know how to react.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, the Mistress slowed her strokes and began teasing the phallus’ tip using the fingernail on her thumb. She stared at the penis’ orifice; her eyes gleaming with lust, before pressing it hard.</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren felt a portion of her nail enter him, causing him to scream in pain. Causing him to awake in a cold sweat.</p><hr/><p>The moment Father Siebren opened his eyes, he was greeted by the blinding light of the morning. The sunshine, combined with his nightmare, intensified the throbbing pain in his head. He quickly closed his eyes shut and shook his head, hoping to free himself from his headache.</p><p> </p><p>Once the pressure in his head died down, he slowly looked up at the ceiling and spoke with an exasperated breath. “Why… Why didn’t you hear my prayer?” His eyes filling with tears as he spoke to God. “Why did you allow my nightmares to turn for the worst!? Why—?”</p><p> </p><p>His grievance was suddenly interrupted when he felt something strange. It was as if there was something nudging him between his legs. But when he looked down to check what was bothering him, he quickly regretted his decision. Because the moment he laid eyes on his groin, he saw it in full mast and pulsating under his cassock, leaving his mouth wide open in shock.</p><p> </p><p>As he stared at his invigorated penis, he started contemplating about what he can do to relieve the tension. He could wait until his penis calms down on its own, and feel less guilty about the pleasurable sensation he was feeling. But he had no idea how long it would take. In this situation, he knew that the fastest way was to bring himself into orgasm, which was something he hasn’t done in decades.</p><p> </p><p>When he accepted the vocation of priesthood, he swore he’d never entertain the pleasures of the flesh. But that morning, he needed to deal with erection that was in front of him as quickly as possible, so no one would know about his disgrace.</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren swallowed the lump in his throat, and slowly place his right hand over his crotch area. <em>Father… Forgive me… </em>When he rested his hand on his garment, he was met with something warm and wet. He breathed heavily through his nostrils as he was ashamed about the fact that he already came even though he has yet to reach complete satisfaction.</p><p> </p><p>In one quick motion he got out of bed and started undressing his cassock. He snarled to himself as he unbuttoned the holy garment because he knew that this process would’ve been easier if hadn’t forgotten to remove it the night before. Once he was undressed, he unzipped his pants and proceeded to take out his cock. It felt hard and thick in his hand, and he can even feel the veins throbbing, waiting for him to reach the climax of a sweet release. And although he had seen himself naked countless times before, the fact that he hadn’t had an erection for so long made it seem like his body wasn’t his.</p><p> </p><p>Then, he began stroking it. He started slow, but eventually increased his speed when the feeling of pleasure returned to him. <em>Forgive me, Lord… </em>He cried in his head each time he held in a moan.</p><p> </p><p>Once he had found a rhythm that was to his liking, he abandoned his self-control and filled his quarters with pleasurable grunts and groans.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Hnggg… Graaagh!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren was about to reach the pinnacle of his climax when he was unceremoniously interrupted by someone knocking on his door.</p><p> </p><p>“Father Siebren,” Father Baptiste’s voice can be heard from outside his room, “are you awake?”</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren immediately releases his grasp from his cock and looked at the wooden door. “Y—Yes, Father Baptiste! I just got out of bed.”</p><p> </p><p>“Finally…” Father Baptiste said to himself. “Glad you’re up, Father, because we need you to be downstairs in a few minutes.”</p><p> </p><p>“H— How come?” Father Siebren asked, silently catching his breath to prevent his fellow priest from noticing his shame.</p><p> </p><p>“Have you forgotten? Our guests will be arriving soon.”</p><p> </p><p>“What!?” Father Siebren darted his gaze at the pocket watch on his desk and tutted when he realized that his morning alarm didn’t wake him. “What time is it?” He said in a demanding tone.</p><p> </p><p>“Almost 9:30!” Father Baptiste answered.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Good heavens! </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Father Siebren couldn’t believe that switching up his task the day before would greatly affect his routine. He had forgotten to set his watch last night, causing him to wake up late. This inconvenience made his blood boil. However, he quickly regained control of his anger, and took deep breaths to help him calm down.</p><p> </p><p> “Forgive me, Father Baptiste,” he said once he fully composed himself, “I may have forgotten to set my alarm… I’ll get ready and meet you downstairs.”</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, Father.”</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren waited for a few moments before returning to finishing himself. Unfortunately, his conversation with his fellow priest drained all the excitement from his penis, and it returned to its listless state. He was relieved that he didn’t need to climax to get rid of his erection. But at the same time, he felt somewhat defeated that he wasn’t able to do so.</p><p>“Now’s not the time,” he whispered, “I should get ready.”</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p>It took Father Siebren exactly 8 minutes to wash up, change his clothes, and head downstairs to meet his fellow priests and guests. As he was walking down the wooden steps in the seminary, he saw Father Harold, Father Baptiste, and two other people huddling at the center of the building’s greeting area.</p><p>“Ah, Father Siebren,” Father Harold looked at his fellow priest who was walking towards the group, “so glad you can join us this fine morning.</p><p> </p><p>“Good morning, Father Harold,” Father Siebren stood to the left of Father Harold and fixed the white collar of his cassock. “I’m sorry if I’m late, but my alarm didn’t go off.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh no, you’re actually just in time!” Father Harold turned to one of the guests and introduced her to his fellow priest. “I’d like you to meet Sister Agnes Donovan,” he said, gesturing to a stout woman wearing a religious habit, “she and her companions are here to stay with us, so they can experience what it’s like spreading the good word in the countryside.”</p><p> </p><p>“Please, call me Sister Agnes!” Sister Agnes, a round, 5-foot tall woman who had a mole on her upper lip, quickly reached for Father Siebren’s right hand and gave him a gleeful handshake. “It’s nice to meet you, Father Siebren,” she then turned to Father Baptiste and did the same, “and you as well, Father Baptiste!”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s nice to meet you too, Sister!” Father Baptiste responded, his voice shaking from the woman’s lively handshake.</p><p> </p><p>Sister Agnes released her hold on Father Baptiste’s hand and let out a cheery giggle. “Thank you for accepting our request to join your church,” she said, smiling at the three priests in front of her, “you have no idea how difficult it is searching for a congregation in the countryside after the war. I’ve told Bishop Len Brennan countless times that people might not be ready to accommodate us, but he was so adamant that we continue our duties.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, yes! The Bishop loves sticking to our schedules.” Father Harold gave a nervous laugh.</p><p> </p><p>Sister Agnes then looked at her priest companion, who stood 1-foot taller than her and had a thin white mustache that complimented his balding head, and introduced him to the group. “Oh, before I forget, this is Father Liam Kelly; he’s the second-in-command in our church in Dublin.”</p><p> </p><p>Father Liam didn’t say a word. Instead, he gave a small bow to their hosts to show his gratitude. In turn, the three priests of Tralee bowed to him—albeit in a more awkward manner.</p><p> </p><p>“And my other companion is Sister Moira O’Deorain. She just joined our church a few months ago.”</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren and Father Baptiste looked around the greeting area and noticed that Sister O’Deorain was nowhere to be found.</p><p> </p><p>“Uhm…” Father Baptiste fidgeted with the white collar of his cassock to relieve some of the embarrassing tension that was brewing in their small group.</p><p> </p><p>Sister Agnes let out a sigh, “I told her to come inside after she’s finished exploring the grounds. I only gave her a few minutes, but I’m guessing she’s taking her sweet time.”</p><p> </p><p>“There’s nothing to worry about, Sister,” Father Siebren responded with a bright laugh, “Tralee is a picturesque place, so we completely understand if she’s caught up by the charming locations of our compound.”</p><p> </p><p>Right after Father Siebren spoke, the front door to the seminary creaked open, garnering everyone’s attention.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, Sister Agnes,” a woman who was also wearing a religious habit came in, “I got distracted by the flower garden. They have the most beautiful tulips I’ve ever seen!”</p><p> </p><p>“We can talk about that another time, Sister Moira.” Using her head, Sister Agnes signaled her fellow nun to stand next to her and behave herself.</p><p> </p><p>Sister Moira was already late, so she fixed her composure and followed Sister Agnes’ orders.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, Sister Moira, I’m happy to hear that you like our garden.” Father Harold exclaimed to help the Sister feel more at ease. “The flowers are actually planted by Father Siebren over here. He takes really good care of them, so they always look healthy and vibrant.”</p><p> </p><p>Father Harold rested a hand on Father Siebren as a means to show off his fellow priest’s botanical skill. He was hoping that his kind gesture would enrich their conversation. However, when he turned his attention to Father Siebren, he noticed that his friendly disposition was quickly eaten up by fear.</p><p> </p><p>The moment Sister Moira entered the seminary, Father Siebren couldn’t keep his eyes away from her. Her angular facial features, svelte body, and red hair that peeked through her garment’s white cap were all seemingly familiar. At first, he brushed off this uncanny feeling. But when Sister Moira’s heterochromatic eyes met his light blue gaze, Father Siebren’s complexion lost all of its warm color.</p><p> <em>No… That’s impossible, </em>he thought; his chin trembling in disbelief, <em>how can she be here!?</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello dear Readers,</p><p>Thank you for your continuing support! It has been so long since I've written NSFW content, so I'm happy to hear that you're still invested in this story. I'd like to continue posting the chapters in a more consistent manner, but I might not be able to during September. Work is going to be hectic and I'll be super busy. I also have some adulting stuff to take care of.</p><p>Needless to say, I'll still be writing during that month. I just wont be posting because I have no time. I made a promise to myself that I will finish my fics this time around. </p><p>Thank you for understanding, and I'm hoping you are all staying safe. Remember to practice social distancing and only go out when you need to. At the time of writing, we're still facing a global pandemic. My hope is that you're all still in good spirits and good health. This crisis too shall end, and we'll all be able to go out and live happy lives.</p><p>With lots of love,<br/>Biak911</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>[Frédéric Chopin - Mazurka, Op. 67 No. 4 Played by Arthur Rubenstein]</em>
</p><p> </p><p>A piercing shrill slowly filled Father Siebren’s head while his heart began beating a thousand times a minute. Sweat crept down from the top of his head to the side of his face, unveiling the pallor of his frightened expression. His chest tightened, making it a bit more difficult to breathe. And as his entire body was battling the symptoms of his extreme stress and anxiety, he was wrestling with the questions that were flooding in his mind.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>What is SHE doing here!?</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>How can SHE be here!?</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Is SHE even real!?</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>As Father Siebren was being consumed by his overwhelming confusion, Father Harold held his fellow priest by his shoulder and gave him a light tug. “Father Siebren?”</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren didn’t respond; his wide eyes were still fixated by the nun’s heterochromatic orbs.</p><p> </p><p>“Father Siebren?” Father Harold tried once more. When he didn’t get an answer from Father Siebren, he grabbed both of his shoulders and turned his fellow priest towards him. “Siebren… Are you alright?” He asked softly.</p><p> </p><p>The moment Father Harold removed his attention from the nun, Father Siebren was immediately released from her hypnotic gaze and was brought to Father Harold’s eyes. Father Harold’s chestnut brown eyes were always kind and warm, even when he’s facing adversity, so they had an unexplainable way to bring people into a state of calm. So the longer Father Siebren focused on his fellow priest’s eyes, the chaos that was stirring his entire being eventually quieted down.</p><p> </p><p>When Father Siebren regained himself, he flickered his eyes until he was able to gain a clear image of Father Harold’s face. “Uhhh...”</p><p> </p><p>“We lost you for a bit there, my friend,” Father Harold whispered in his fellow priest’s ear.</p><p> </p><p>Realizing this, Father Siebren quickly jounced up and faced the guests, “Oh, forgive me,” he gave out a light laugh to help release a bit of his embarrassment, “I was just uhm… In deep thought… What were we talking about?</p><p> </p><p>“Father Harold just told our guests that you’re responsible for taking care of our garden,” Father Baptiste answered, “Sister Moira even complemented your tulips!” he said with a smile to help Father Siebren to relax. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh!” Father Siebren turned to Sister Moira with a gentle expression on his face, “I’m delighted that you like them, Sister. Among all the flowers I’ve planted, the tulips will always be my favorite, so I make sure they look more attractive than the rest.”</p><p> </p><p>“… I see…” Sister Moira took a step closer to Sister Agnes, and whispered to her ear, “did I say something wrong?” she asked, clutching her hands together to cease the nervousness that invaded the nerves in her palms.</p><p> </p><p>From her body language, Father Harold knew that Sister Moira was upset. Her admiration for Father Siebren’s tulips was an innocent gesture, so she didn’t expect Father Siebren to react as if she had said something offensive. However, none of the guests knew about his fellow priest’s condition, so he had to control the situation before things got any more unpleasant.</p><p> </p><p>Father Harold clapped his hands and rubbed them together to garner the attention of the group, “let’s move our conversation to the dining room, shall we? You left Dublin early and had a long trip, so you must be hungry.” He said to Sister Agnes and her group. “Mrs. Murphy has been cooking up a storm in the kitchen, and she’s excited to have you taste her best breakfast dishes.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Father Harold led the group to the seminary’s quaint dining room. The room was originally built and designed to fit the few people living in the seminary, but on that day, the space was modified to seat the three Tralee priest and their guests. Two square dining tables were placed next to each other to accommodate the people having breakfast. Instead of having four dining chairs placed around the tables, there were now six. The arrangement made the floor space a bit tight, but it didn’t impede their ability to find a seat. Father Harold sat on one end of the table with Father Baptiste to his right and Father Liam to his left. On the other end sat Sister Agnes with Father Siebren to her left and Sister Moira to her right.</p><p>The table set up was simple; each person had a plate, a set of cutleries, and a glass of water. However, the food that was spread across the table was anything but. They were having sunny side up eggs, bacon rashers, pork sausages, fried tomatoes, baked beans, and black pudding—typical fares of any Irish breakfast. But due to Mrs. Murphy’s excitement, she cooked so much that the feast was able to feed around 25 people. The group took a few seconds to admire Mrs. Murphy’s dedication. Their eyes couldn’t believe that one woman was able to cook this much food.</p><p> </p><p>“Shall we say grace?” Father Harold invited everyone to come to prayer and bless their meal. After they’ve said their amens in chorus, they started to eat.</p><p> </p><p>Breakfast was filled with good food, cheerful conversations, and interesting stories about the church in Tralee and Dublin. Their lighthearted interactions made the dining room warm and inviting, matching the atmosphere of that sunny and laidback Monday morning. Unfortunately, Father Siebren was experiencing something different. Even though the people around him were all smiling and having a great time eating their meal, he remained silent. He had also only touched his food six times before placing an elbow on the table and rested his chin on his hand just to be lost in thought once more. After taking a bite of a fried tomato, he fixed his sights on Sister Moira who was sitting right across him. He observed her mannerisms; how she spoke, laughed, and her expressions when answering questions, just to see if the woman was real… Or if she was different from the demon from his dreams.</p><p> </p><p><em>She looks just like her, </em>he thought, <em>she sounds like her too! But it can’t be her… It just can’t! She’s a demon, and demons can’t walk among us, at least not freely in their horrid form… Right? </em></p><p> </p><p>From where she was seated, Sister Moira can visibly see Father Siebren's agitation whenever he’d look at her. Even when he’d pretend that he wasn’t staring at her or shift his sights elsewhere, she’d watch him squirm around in his seat and poke at his food, which has turned into a small mound of mush. She did her best not meet his gaze, but each time she wanted to speak, Father Siebren would stare at her as if he was waiting for her to say something unpleasant.</p><p> </p><p>Sister Moira allowed Father Siebren to be improper for the first ten minutes of breakfast. When she eventually became tired of his behavior, she cleared her throat and spoke up, “Father Siebren, is something the matter?” she asked as if she was guilty of committing a crime even if she had no fault.</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren snapped out of his fixation and stopped playing with his meal, “Huh?” when he raised his head, he noticed everyone at the table turn their attention towards him. With their curious eyes all over him, he immediately shuddered as the rush of embarrassment filled his body, “Oh, I’m sorry,” he then looked at Sister Moira and gave her a faint smile with his eyes closed, “did you say something?”</p><p> </p><p>Sister Moira quietly released a defeated sigh, but quickly recollected herself to speak to the Father once more, “I was asking if there’s anything bothering y—”</p><p> </p><p>Just when Sister Moira was about to finish her sentence, the door to the kitchen suddenly swung open and out came Mrs. Murphy who was holding a freshly baked loaf of bread on a metal tray.</p><p> </p><p>“Good morning, everyone,” Mrs. Murphy— a bespectacled, lanky, gray-haired woman wearing a long, light pink nightgown, a dark green knitted cardigan, and indoor slippers—greeted the group as she placed the tray on the table, “I hope you’re all enjoying breakfast!” she said with a happy tune.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, Mrs. Murphy,” Father greeted her with glee, “so glad you can join us. Meet Sister Agnes and her two companions, Father Liam and Sister Moira.” he gestured to each of his guests respectively.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello, and welcome to our little parish.” Mrs. Murphy walked towards Sister Agnes to greet her with a handshake. “I hope my husband’s driving was safe.” she chuckled at the end.</p><p> </p><p>“Mr. Murphy’s driving was superb,” Sister Agnes gleamed as she reached to receive Mrs. Murphy’s handshake, “he knew how to maneuver the car through the roughest roads.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, that’s one of the advantages of growing up in Tralee,” Mrs. Murphy laughed. “How is the food? I hope it’s to your liking?”</p><p> </p><p>“The food is marvelous!” Sister Agnes answered, finishing the handshake with one last tug, “Father Liam particularly loves the sausages!”</p><p> </p><p>As Sister Agnes gestured to her priest companion, Father Liam took a bite of the pork sausage and nodded at Mrs. Murphy with a smile.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m glad you like them, Father. I made them with my own two hands!” Mrs. Murphy then turned to Father Siebren, “I hope you’ll like the bread I made this morning. I followed the recipe you gave me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure I will, Mrs. Murphy,” Father Siebren gave her reassurance, “you’ve made my favorite stroopwafels just the way I like them, so I know I’ll love this <em>fries roggerbrood </em>you’ve made.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, Father, you always know how to flatter me.” Mrs. Murphy then adjusted her glasses and was shocked to see that something was missing on the table, “good heavens! I must’ve forgotten to get the tea. Excuse me for a moment.” she retreated into the kitchen as fast as her old legs could take her.</p><p> </p><p><em>Fries Roggerbrood? </em>Curious, Sister Moira looked at the loaf of bread placed right in front of her. It looked moist and dense, and had a darker shade of brown than the common white loaf. It also had an oatey-looking exterior, which, in her honest opinion, looked unappetizing. “What type of bread is this?” she looked at Father Siebren, tilting her head to the side.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, yes! <em>Fries roggerbrood,</em>” Father Siebren began speaking with confidence in his tone, “it’s a popular rye bread from Friesland, a Dutch province. My mother is from there and she used to bake a loaf every morning for breakfast.”</p><p> </p><p>Mrs. Murphy’s entrance was a godsend. Not only did her presence help loosen the invisible tension that was affecting Father Siebren and Sister Moira, but it also kept Father Siebren from being absorbed by his thoughts. Seeing him in a more relaxed state comforted Sister Moira; the weight of uneasiness was immediately lifted from her shoulders. The flow of their conversation seemed like everything was going to return to normal. That is until Father Siebren felt something bothering him.</p><p> </p><p>While he was talking about the other popular baked goods from his home country, Father Siebren could sense something slithering around his legs. He crossed his legs in hopes to drive away whatever is bothering him. But even when he shifted his legs into a different position, the sensation didn’t disappear. He then decided to inspect the cause of his discomfort.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...Impossible! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>When Father Siebren looked down, he saw a devil’s tail wrapping itself around his right leg. The sight of it came to a shock, causing him to freeze in his seat. He watched as the tail slithered up to his thigh and rub its sharp end against his crotch; slowly tearing through his cassock.</p><p> </p><p><em>No, this can’t be real!? How can it be!? </em>His mind went into a state of panic as his hands started shaking on the table. Sweat began dripping down from his forehead once more.</p><p> </p><p>“So you’re from The Netherlands,” Sister Moira said as she grabbed another helping of eggs, “I don’t mean to pry, but what brings you here to Ireland? Aren’t you a part of some congregation in your hometown?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah… Yes… I mean I used to… <em>hnggg</em>.” Father Siebren bit his lower lip as he gave Sister Moira a vexing stare. The anger and confusion that was coursing in his body made intensified his gaze that it frightened the Sister. He needed to be certain whether or not Sister Moira was The Mistress in disguise. And even though she looked faultless, he still doubted her existence.</p><p> </p><p>“Father Siebren,” Father Baptiste spoke the moment he noticed his fellow priest was in distress, “are you alright?”</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, Father Siebren stood up from his seat and slammed his hands on the table, causing the utensils and dishware to rattle. Most of the people at the table looked at him with a stunned expression on their faces. It was only Sister Moira who looked away, hiding her guilt she didn’t deserve away from the enraged Father. Father Siebren kept his head low and stared at the devil’s tail until it slithered back under the table. He then took a few deep hot breaths before realizing what he has done.</p><p> </p><p>“I…” he uttered when he raised his head, looking at everyone. “Excuse me—” Father Siebren said in embarrassment before retreating into the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>Once Father Siebren has left the dining room, Sister Moira turned to Father Harold and asked, “Was there anything wrong with what I said?”</p><p> </p><p>“No you’re fine, Sister,” Father Harold answered with a sigh, “but I believe your three being here has triggered his condition.”</p><p> </p><p>When Father Harold mentioned that his fellow priest is going through something, Sister Agnes propped up. “If I may ask, Father, what does he have?”</p><p> </p><p>“Post-traumatic stress disorder,” Father Harold responded as he stood up from the table, “he developed it after the Germans bombed Rotterdam. He was in the middle of it all, so his symptoms can get quite severe.” He then excused himself from the table and started walking towards the kitchen. “I’m sorry, I thought he was ready to accept new people into the church.” He then looked at Sister Moira before entering the kitchen. “Don’t worry, I’ll go talk to him. I’ll help him feel at ease. I’ll also make sure that he won’t make you feel uncomfortable during your stay, Sister Moira. But I hope you understand that he might get triggered again. He just has to get used to all of you being here.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The moment Father Siebren entered the kitchen, he quickly ran to the kitchen sink and turned on the faucet. His haste caught Mrs. Murphy’s attention, who was setting up a tray of cups of tea. As Father Siebren placed his hands on the edge of the sink, he took slow, heavy breaths to calm himself. He was also staring at his cassock’s crotch area and was shocked to see the absence of the tear.</p><p> </p><p>“Father Siebren,” Mrs. Murphy carefully placed the pot of tea on the kitchen island and shuffled next to the priest, “are you alright?” She asked, placing a kind hand on his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“Y—yes, I’m fine,” he replied with a nervous stutter, “I… I just need a moment to think….”</p><p> </p><p>Mrs. Murphy turned to Father Siebren and noticed his entire body was trembling in fear. Cold sweat was pouring from his pale face, and his eyes wouldn’t stop shifting around. She knew that there was something stirring inside of him.</p><p> </p><p>“Father,” she whispered, “are you having an episode? If it helps, I can leave the kitchen and give you room to calm down.”</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren’s mouth trembled, “I—I’d like that, M—Mrs. Murphy,” he was having difficulty saying his words.</p><p> </p><p>Mrs. Murphy gave him a slight nod before leaving the kitchen with the tray of cups of tea in hand. Once he was alone, Father Siebren cupped his hands under the running water and splashed his face. He continued to do this four more times until the rush of the cold liquid prickled his nerves, resetting his mind and body—pacifying his anxiety.</p><p> </p><p><em>What just happened, </em>he thought as he covered his moist hands over his face, <em>that thing I saw... It can’t be real, </em>when he lowered his hands, he looked at his crotch again and gave a sigh of relief when he saw no tear on his garment. “Yeah… Maybe my mind was just playing tricks on me.” He said to himself softly.</p><p> </p><p>“Siebren!”</p><p> </p><p>Father Harold’s voice startled Father Siebren, causing him to jump. “Ah! Father Harold,” he turned to his fellow priest and leaned against the kitchen counter for support, “I didn’t hear you come in.”</p><p> </p><p>Father Harold sensed the nervousness in his fellow priest’s laughter and looked at him with concern. “Siebren,” he rested a hand on his shoulder, “forgive me.”</p><p> </p><p>“… For what?” Father Siebren responded with an innocent tone. “For startling me? You don’t need to apologize for that Ha—”</p><p> </p><p>“No, not for that,” Father Harold interrupted, “I’m apologizing for putting you in this awkward situation.” </p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren was surprised by his fellow priest’s answer and tilted his head in confusion.</p><p> </p><p>“Siebren, if the Bishop wasn’t strict with his schedule, I would not have allowed Sister Agnes and her companions to stay with us so suddenly. I know that abrupt changes in your environment can trigger your condition, but I thought that you were ready to accept something new after being with us for three years.”</p><p> </p><p>“Harold…” Father Siebren looked at his friend; his eyes filled with distraught, and parted his lips to speak. But before he could continue, Father Harold said his words first.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll remind our guests to be careful with what they say when they’re around you. For now, I want you to rest. You can take the kitchen’s back door if you’re uncomfortable facing them. I’ll have Father Baptiste send some food to your room.”</p><p> </p><p>“N— No, you don’t have to,” Father Siebren responded as he shifted his position to the side so he’d be closer to the door. “I don’t need to eat. I’ve lost my appetite.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Siebren.” Father Harold took a step back and placed his hands behind his back. “I didn’t want to ruin your morning.”</p><p> </p><p>“…Harold?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Siebren?”</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren lowered his head and looked at the tips of his black leather loafers. The skin between his eyes curled while his trembling jaw was preventing him to speak. He kept his hands to his side and clenched the fabric of his clothes, which soaked the sweat on his palms. He wanted to tell Father Harold about his nightmare, the creatures in hell, and The Mistress. Yet he was too embarrassed and frightened to say a word. Father Harold could sense it from his friend’s face.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you have your watch with you?”</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren nodded before slowly taking out the device from his cassock’s pocket.</p><p> </p><p>“Set an alarm for two hours. I’ll come to your room by then, so we can talk. I’ll listen to everything you have to say. Alright?”</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren gave Father Harold a couple more nods.</p><p> </p><p>When Father Harold was confident that he could leave his friend, he gave Father Siebren a strong pat on the shoulder before returning to the dining room.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Living with PTSD has dramatically changed Father Siebren’s life. During his first few months grappling with his condition, he felt as if his soul was removed from his body each time he had an episode. His mind felt empty but was always filled with the horrifying scenes that constantly replayed in his thoughts. He could not find peace during his waking hours or his sleep. His body would weaken after an attack, forcing him to take a few hours of rest. But after staying with Father Harold and Father Baptiste in the church of Tralee for 3 years, he was somewhat able to return to a life of normalcy… Or so he thought.</p><p> </p><p>As he was walking back to his quarters, all Father Siebren could think about was Sister Moira. It still boggled him that The Mistress and the nun shared the same face, but their personalities were incredibly different from each other. Although he and the sister had only exchanged few words, her inquisitive and polite personality made him want to believe that The Mistress and Sister Moira were two different entities. And yet, a voice in the back of his mind kept telling him not to end with that conclusion.</p><p> </p><p>His train of thought was immediately cut off, however, once he entered his room. The moment he closed his bedroom door shut, he looked at his bed, which he forgot to fix this morning, and gave a defeated sigh. As he approached it, he caught sight of the soiled clothes he wore the day before. The acid in this stomach gurgled as the look of shame gradually painted his face.</p><p> </p><p>When he sat down at the edge of his bed, he instantly felt the weight of exhaustion fall on his body, causing his head to throb and his shoulders to become heavy. He loathed wrestling with his tired self, especially when he had just started the day a few hours ago. But he lost the battle, and fell into the welcoming arms of his soft, warm bed. As he was staring at the ceiling, he used his remaining energy to keep his eyelids from closing.</p><p> </p><p>“Please… Don’t sleep,” he mumbled to himself with a tinge of fear in his tone, “you can’t sleep… Not when she’s there…” After blinking a few times, he finally slept.</p><p> </p><p>When he opened them once more, he returned to his nightmare in hell, but only this time he was strapped down on a wooden table with The Mistress lying atop his bare chest.</p><p> </p><p>“So glad to see you back so soon,” she snickered as she twirled her slender finger around his sensitive left nipple, “it became boring and quiet when you left, and I felt… <em>Lonely</em>...” She said, pairing her sultry voice with a smile that bared her sharp teeth.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>[Juilo Elizalde and Ray Chen’s Version of A Evaristo Carriego]</em>
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</p><p>After having nightmares about hell for several days, one might think that Father Siebren would be acquainted with hell’s fire and brimstone by now. But when The Mistress was suddenly added to the equation, the devil’s realm got a little bit hotter. The priest was desperate to escape The Mistress. A voice in his head began screaming at him, commanding him to pull himself free from the ropes that tied his wrists and feet to the edge of the wooden table. But he couldn’t focus. The Mistress’ sharp fingernail continued to circle around his erect nipple, making his heart palpitate against his ribcage.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t try to fight it,” The Mistress released a light chuckle as she pinched his nipple between her index and middle fingers, “you’re not in the right condition to defy me.” She then sat up and turned to the side, revealing the priest’s naked body.</p><p> </p><p>The moment Father Siebren realized that he was fully exposed, his eyes widened in fear. He was more vulnerable now, and he didn’t want to imagine what horrors the demoness could do to him. So, he began to squirm on the table, hoping to knock her off his stomach. But the more he struggled, the more excited The Mistress became.</p><p> </p><p>Feeling his sweaty skin smack against her sensitive inner folds made her release a soft moan between her fangs. She then held the priest down with her right hand, placing her entire weight on his bare chest, and carefully protracting her claws so as not to scratch him.</p><p> </p><p>“Easy now…” She huffed. “The more you try to resist me, the more aroused my body becomes.” The Mistress lowered herself and let her breasts lay on Father Siebren’s upper body. “Besides, I can’t be the only one having fun.”</p><p> </p><p>After whispering those steamy words to his ear, The Mistress playfully bit the helix of the holy man’s left ear before licking its outer flesh. The tip of her forceful tongue tickled Father Siebren, sending prickles throughout his nerves, making his body shudder in fear and arousal. With the priest trembling like the brass walls of the church’s bell that has been rung for Sunday morning mass, The Mistress couldn’t help but produce a triumphant smile. The holy man’s response was all the proof she needed to know that her advances were working.</p><p> </p><p>While the demoness was stirring up his ear with her tongue, Father Siebren’s thoughts began to spin. He can feel her budding nipples through the thin fabric of her dress, striking a fire in his chest. As the heat of the moment rose to his face, he let out warm deep breaths in hopes to prevent this feeling of pleasure from getting out of hand.</p><p> </p><p><em>Keep it together, Siebren…. Keep it together…. </em>The priest closed his eyes and gritted his teeth to strengthen his resolve.</p><p> </p><p>The Mistress noticed that Father Siebren suddenly became silent, she stopped licking his ear and instead, placed her attention on the holy man’s scrunched facial expression. She found it adorable that he was withholding his carnal desires… And it made her laugh.</p><p> </p><p>“You are an interesting specimen, aren’t you?” She chuckled like a noblewoman, “But I’m telling you now that it’ll be easier for the both of us if you just let go.”</p><p> </p><p>When Father Siebren opened his eyes, he saw The Mistress still straddling on top of him with her tongue sticking out. He was shocked by both its length and the black beads that studded the edges of the muscular organ. When The Mistress realized that showing a portion of her true form made the holy man fear her even more, she gave him an evil smile that bared her sharp teeth.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll give you a taste of the pleasures hell has to offer…”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The Mistress quickly switched her position until she was sitting in reverse. She was now staring at his penis, which saluted her with its glans glistening from the priest’s pre-ejaculation fluid. Her heterochromatic orbs twinkled when she saw his cock twitch in embarrassment, allowing a few drops of his precious white liquid leak from the tip. Father Siebren could feel the sharpness of her gaze brush against his vulnerable phallus.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, I’m glad to see that you missed me too,” she said sarcastically as she lowered her herself to his crotch. The tip of her pointed nose was an inch away from the priest’s penis, giving her an unobstructed view of the veins that swelled from the blood rushing through them. Using her demon tail, The Mistress parted the back half of her dress’ skirt, unveiling her vulva to the priest. The inner flesh of her genitalia tingled when she felt the holy man’s hot breath touch her.</p><p> </p><p>The moment Father Siebren came face to face with the demoness’ sex, he quickly gasped for air before looking away. Even though he only saw it for less than a second, he writhed in embarrassment because he knew that it was a sin to be tempted by the colors of lust. He forced his eyes shut, bit down on his lower lip, and muttered countless Hail Marys to build his faith But her musky scent was too strong, sending an odor that delighted his sense of smell, causing him to slowly draw his eyes back to her. Now that he placed his full attention on her vulva, he hesitatingly let his eyes examine all of her parts.</p><p> </p><p>The Mistress’ rosy flesh was coated with her body’s natural lubricant, causing her vaginal wall to shine. The inner folds of her labia elegantly framed her entrances, coaxing the holy man to gaze upon them until he drools. Her fiery red hair on this area of her body was thick and damp from the sweat that was dripping from her thighs. And because of how she was sitting, her hard clitoris suspended a few inches away between his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren was at a loss for words. Although he had learned about the female reproductive system in school and by taking quick glances through the science books in his hometown’s library, he had never been this observant before. He also has experience pleasuring women during his young adult years, but he willingly let go of that life decades ago when he accepted his vocation of becoming a man of the cloth. So, it perplexed him when he felt threatened by her vulva. Maybe it was because it was a sign that he was losing faith in himself and with the Lord. Or maybe it was because it has been so long since he had ever been this close with a woman of her caliber. All he could do at that very moment was to release staggered hot breaths while the chaos in his mind, chest, and crotch continued to stir.</p><p> </p><p>All of a sudden, The Mistress wrapped her long and sharp tongue around the shaft of his penis and began giving him tender strokes.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Ngggghh…” </em>Father Siebren’s voice shivered. “P— Please… Stop, <em>unnnghh</em>.” He gulped before stifling his moans, catching his breath after he had successfully kept his audible pleasures to himself.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve told me that before,” The Mistress grinned with her tongue still hugging his cock, “but we both know that you want me to keep going… Now, hold still.”</p><p> </p><p>The Mistress unfurled her tongue from the holy man’s phallus and gently held his shaft in her hand. She then brought her lips closer to the tip and gave it a light kiss before taking him whole. The inside of the demoness’ mouth was warm and moist, keeping his phallus aroused. The tips of her sharp teeth brushed against his sensitive skin, tickling him as she worked to satisfy his sexual needs. Father Siebren bit down on his tongue, hoping that his self-inflicted pain would overtake his feelings of pleasure. But when The Mistress made use of her tongue once more and quickened her performance, the priest could no longer take it.</p><p> </p><p><em>LORD GOD, PLEASE HELP ME! </em>He screamed in his head as he let out a deep growl.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Got him! </em>
</p><p>Once The Mistress had successfully broken a layer of the holy man’s faith, she used the beads in her tongue to rub against the sides of his shaft, making sure that his protruding veins felt her power. Every few seconds she would hear his grunts and groans, and in the corner of her eye she’d see his toes curl from the pleasure he was receiving. Visualizing his erotic expressions stirred up her insides, causing her body to become hot. The heat rose to her face, painting her cheeks bright pink. While her sex was wet, crying to get some attention too.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, how The Mistress wanted to listen to her body and let the priest kiss her folds. But she needed to restrain herself. Although kindling the flame of a man’s hidden sexual desires is part her duty, she needed to perform her tricks gradually. She knew that if she indulged herself, not only will her subject’s life force draw out from his body quickly, but the devil’s eyes won’t be amused that she disobeyed her orders.</p><p> </p><p>But she was having difficulty holding herself back.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Mmmnnhhh</em>…” She moaned as she let her lips reach the base of his penis, leaving a crimson rim on his skin as she pleasured him upwards. <em>This man is something else, </em>she thought as she continued sucking on the priest, <em>I have never had a subject this pure, this sensitive… This big! </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>As she went down on him, she sent a wave of excitement through the priest’s nerves, causing him to suddenly thrust his hips upward. The tip of his cock hit the back of The Mistress’ throat, leading her to tighten her grip on his shaft to prevent him from choking her.</p><p> </p><p>The Mistress released herself from him and gave him a furious glare and growled, “Didn’t I tell you to hold still!?” She then grabbed his testicles and squeezed them hard. “You’re a bad boy!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Nggahh,” </em>Father Siebren let out an exasperated breath as he squirmed, “No more, please… I can’t….<em> Ahhhh…</em> I’m going to—<em>” </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“Cum?” The Mistress arrogantly laughed at his face before returning her attention to his phallus. “Isn’t that a bit too soon, Father? I haven’t even fully enjoyed you yet.” She lowered herself again until her lips were inches away from his penis. “But I sense that our time together will soon come to an end… So, I’ll make sure that we finish together.”</p><p> </p><p>While she devoured his phallus once more, she commanded her demon tail to caress her vaginal wall, resulting in her arousal fluid to spill on the priest’s chest. Now that she was pouring onto him, he can smell the sweet, earthy nodes of her sex, and see her flesh tremble as she pleasured herself. Then, she let the sharp tip of her tail repeatedly press her hardened clitoris, making her entire body quiver. Watching her play with her sensitive and wet flesh sent a familiar, erotic sensation all over the priest’s body. And when he was about to reach the sinful climax, he cried as loudly as he can to the heavens above.</p><p> </p><p>“GOD! PLEASE FORGIVE ME!”  Father Siebren couldn’t control himself and shot a full load into the demoness’ mouth.</p><p> </p><p>At first, The Mistress thought that she can swallow everything. But when her mouth was quickly filling up with his semen, she immediately pulled back from his cock and let the rest of his load cover her face. He was hot, thick, and sticky. And as she used her tongue to wipe the cum that clung to the sides of her mouth, she gave the priest a satisfied smile.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Hmph, </em>you didn’t let me finish… But at least you taste good,” she said, licking her fingers like she had finished eating a hearty meal. The Mistress switched back to her original seating position and lowered herself until the tip of her nose touched his. “I also see that you enjoyed me as well.”</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren stared into the demoness’ heterochromatic eyes and saw his frightened self in her orbs. He also couldn’t believe that his chest and neck were glazed with a sticky liquid that was composed of his sweat and her arousal fluid. His staggered breathing and tired body didn’t allow him to think in peace. And when The Mistress gave him a light kiss on his nose, tears began streaming down his face.</p><p> </p><p>“What have I done…?” He whispered.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve done splendidly, my pet.” The Mistress said before beginning to kiss his tears that rolled from his cheek and neck. “I wish I can play with you some more, but I must take my leave… A holy presence is waiting for you on the other side.”</p><p> </p><p>The Mistress then covered the holy man’s eyes with her right hand, and in a few seconds, Father Siebren woke up with widened eyes as he was gasping for air.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello dear Readers,</p><p>Thank you again for all your support and the kind words you all have about my fic. I'd like to apologize for uploading things slowly and not replying to your comments. I'm quite busy and I usually answer comments in the final chapter (because I think it looks clean and neat). Sorry again, but I'm hoping that you are all enjoying the story so far. Thank you and let's get to the story. Happy reading!</p><p>- Biak911</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>[Francis Poulenc – Flute Sonata 2<sup>nd</sup> Movement]</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>The moment he awoke from his nightmare, Father Siebren immediately opened his eyes and stared into the ceiling for several seconds. He was searching for the familiar cracks on the cobblestone surfaces that helped calm his mind. But since he had just returned from his hellish ordeal, his stress caused his vision to blur—making it look like he was staring into a puddle of muck. He was still having trouble breathing, so he grabbed his chest and took a deep breath in hopes to slow down his racing heart. However, his heart wouldn’t rest. So, he tightened his grasp and tried to steady himself. Fear slowly painted his face when the realization that an impending heart attack can swiftly take his life. He continued to clutch himself until the skin on his chest reddened from his tight hold.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually, his heart found its way to return to its regular beat. Once he was stable, the priest released his grasp and rested his hand on his chest. He was breathing normally now and his vision cleared. When he was convinced that his body was under his control, he sat up and stared at the mess he made on his bed. His wet dream (or more preferably, his nightmare) caused him to stain his white blanket with a sticky fluid that was coming from his crotch. He then quickly removed the sheet and was surprised that the thick fabric of his cassock was doused with his own semen. As he touched his garment, he was immediately filled with shame when he felt the warmth of his cum coat his fingertips.</p><p> </p><p>Although he had only dreamt about the demoness twice, Father Siebren was already getting tired of her games and the lack of sleep she was giving him. He was also tired that her presence was soiling his religious promise, as well as the few cassocks he owns. The flames of his anger rose to his chest and his frustrations made it even more difficult to quell them. He felt powerless as he didn’t know how to get rid of the demon that was invading his sleep. All he could do at that moment was to get out of bed and find a change of clothes.</p><p> </p><p>However, the second his feet touched the floor, his watch, which he kept in his pocket, sounded its alarm, alerting him that his two hours were up. He quickly grabbed the device and switched it off to cease its annoying chimes. “Has it already been two hours?” he said to himself with a heavy sigh. “I swear, it only felt like I was asleep for 10 minutes.”</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly his attention was caught by the sound of someone knocking on his door.</p><p> </p><p>“Siebren,” it was Father Harold, “are you awake?”</p><p> </p><p>Hearing his fellow priest’s voice surprised Father Siebren. “Y... Yes! Yes, I am!” <em>His timing is impeccable,</em> he thought as he frantically threw his soiled sheet next to the cassock he had worn the night before. He then stood up and desperately tried to undress himself. He did not want his friend to see him in such a sorry state. But as Father Harold continued knocking on the door, Father Siebren kept losing his concentration, making the simplest of actions—like unbuttoning his garments—a difficult task.</p><p> </p><p>From the other side of the door, Father Harold could hear his fellow priest fumbling inside his room and grumbling to himself. He suddenly became worried about his friend and knocked on the door with more force. “Siebren?” he said with a louder tone and a slight impatience in his voice, “are you okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I’m fine!” Father Siebren unknowingly snapped back at him as he was still struggling to get through the first button of his cassock. “Just give me a moment… I just… <em>Arghh!” </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>After wrestling with his clothes for a solid 3 minutes, Father Siebren surrendered and gave a defeated sigh. There were just too many things clouding his mind that he couldn’t think straight. It was also rude to make Father Harold wait. After all, he cleared some time in his busy schedule to speak with him.</p><p> </p><p>“I…I’m sorry, Harold,” Father Siebren spoke as he looked towards the door, “I’m coming.”</p><p> </p><p>Walking towards the entrance of his room, Father Siebren did his best to come up with an introduction the moment he meets Father Harold face to face. He wanted to tell him everything; about his nightmares, about The Mistress, about the unwanted pleasures she’s given him. But the fact that he had to confide to his fellow priest about the mess he’d made, placed a weight of hesitation on his shoulders. By the time he reached the door, all he could do was stare at the doorknob for a few seconds before opening it and greeting Father Harold.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry about that Harold. I was just having trouble getting ready.” Father Siebren let out a light laugh.</p><p> </p><p>“Getting ready for what?” Father Harold asked, tilting his head to the side. He then peered in closer to his friend to observe his face.  “Siebren, are you sure you got enough rest?”</p><p> </p><p>“Uhm, yes of course!” The priest cleared his throat before continuing. “I think a few more minutes would’ve helped, but I’m up and about.”</p><p> </p><p>Father Harold peered closer to observe his friend’s face. Although his fellow priest didn’t finish everything that was on his plate for breakfast, he thought that Father Siebren had enough sustenance to help him make it through the day. But the bags under his bloodshot eyes and dehydrated skin told him otherwise. “Yikes!” Father Harold exclaimed, taking a step back. “I think you needed more than two hours, Siebren.”</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren held his left cheek to feel the dryness of his skin. “… Is it that bad?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes!” Father Harold was quick to answer. “Maybe I should return another time. I’ll send Father Baptiste with some food and water so you can—”</p><p> </p><p>“No!” Father Siebren gripped the side of the door and brought it closer to his body. He knew that he needed to tell someone about his nightmares, but at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to tell his friend about the shameful act he performed. “I… I need you…”</p><p> </p><p>Father Harold stared at his friend and was perplexed as to how a man of Father SIebren’s stature and build can produce a pleading look that let the feeling of guilt rise to his throat if he refused. He then looked away for a moment, before staring into his friend’s eyes once more. “Alright, Siebren. But I’ll make this quick so you can go back and rest... May I come in?”</p><p> </p><p>Before Father Siebren entertained his friend’s request, he took a quick peek outside to see if there was anyone in the hallway. He looked to the left, then to the right. And when everything was clear, he grabbed Father Harold by the arm and pulled him inside his room.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Once the door was shut, Father Siebren remained standing in front of the door with his back facing his fellow priest. Looking at his friend’s reaction, Father Harold became confused. He thought Father Siebren wanted his help, but he didn’t fully understand why he wouldn’t face him.</p><p> </p><p>“Siebren, are you alright?” he asked as he reached out to him. “What’s going on?”</p><p> </p><p>When Father Siebren felt his friend’s hand rest on his shoulder, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was still debating whether or not it was a good idea to tell Father Harold about his nightmares or his sins. But he knew that if he told someone whom he could trust, then maybe there’s a good chance that his nightmares will end.</p><p> </p><p>“Harold…” he whispered after swallowing a lump of saliva in his throat. “I… I’ve done something unforgiveable.” Father Siebren turned to his friend and showed him his soiled cassock. </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Father Harold covered his mouth with his hand the moment he laid eyes on his friend’s wet garment. He was surprised to see a large portion of the crotch area covered in a sticky and viscous fluid that made the fabric glisten in the morning’s natural light.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Uhm… S-Siebren,” Father Harold stuttered lightly as he was still in shock, “how did this happen—wait! Of course I know how this happens.” He shook his head to clear his mind and focus on the problem at hand. “But…Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“The nightmares,” Father Siebren hastily answered, “they started getting worse!”</p><p> </p><p>“When?”</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren darted his eyes away from his friend and answered, “… Since last night.” He said with his mouth trembling. He then pointed at his soiled cassock and sheet that was on the floor next to his bed.</p><p> </p><p>Father Harold looked towards the direction his fellow priest was pointing, and was appalled to see the mess he made. “Oh dear!” he gasped before returning his attention to his friend. “This will take a bit of time… C’mon, have a seat and let’s talk,” he said as he gestured towards the bed.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The conversation between the two holy men started slow and in silence. Father Siebren was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at his twiddling thumbs, while Father Harold was sitting on the wooden desk chair in front of him with his arms crossed on his chest. The bespectacled priest tapped his arm, waiting for his friend to respond. But when Father Siebren hasn’t said a word in three minutes, Father Harold was forced to start.</p><p> </p><p>“Siebren,” he removed his glasses to rub his eyes with his thumb and index finger, “I can’t help you if you won’t say anything.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Father Siebren spoke as he looked up to his friend, “I just… I just don’t know how to say it.”</p><p> </p><p>Father Harold wore his glasses and rested his back on the seat. Massaging the thick beard on his chin, he began thinking of a way to make his friend talk. “Okay, what about this?” He then leaned forward to garner Father Siebren’s full attention, “you told me yesterday that you were having nightmares about hell, correct?”</p><p> </p><p>“… Yes…” Father Siebren whispered his answer.</p><p> </p><p>“And that you were being tortured?”</p><p> </p><p>  Father Siebren nodded with his head hung low.</p><p> </p><p>“How long has that been <em>really </em>going on?”</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren bit his lower lip and did his best to muster up his courage to answer his fellow priest. “… About two weeks…”</p><p> </p><p>“TWO WEEKS!?” Father Harold was startled by his friend’s response, causing him to stand up from his seat. “Siebren, you should’ve told me earlier! I could’ve gone to town and look for something to help you sleep better.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s fine, Harold,” Father Siebren was looking at his friend eye-to-eye now, “I was actually able to handle most nights. But everything changed when I began seeing the small red creatures and I was being held against my will. That’s when I came to you yesterday morning.”</p><p> </p><p>When his friend mentioned this, Father Harold felt the acid of guilt bubbling in his stomach. As he slowly sat back down to his seat, he realized that brushing off his fellow priest’s pleas that day was a mistake. “Forgive me, Siebren,” he held his friend by his arm, “I had no idea that your nightmares were haunting you this badly.”</p><p> </p><p>“… It actually got worse.” Father Siebren’s face drooped as he shared his encounters with the demoness. “Do you remember me telling you that I was hearing a voice?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” Father Harold reclined on his chair and crossed his arms once more while nodding.</p><p> </p><p>“Well… She finally showed herself to me last night.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>She?” </em>The bespectacled priest’s eyes widened. “Who is this <em>she </em>you’re talking about?”</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren opened his mouth slightly but no words escaped with his breath. His entire being was telling him that it was a fruitless endeavor to tell his fellow priest about The Mistress because he knew, deep down, that he would be marked as a grave sinner. However, a part of him also knew that if he told Father Harold about the demoness that tormented his mind, a heavy weight will be lifted from his head and chest.</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren swallowed hard before attempting to speak again. “The red creatures call her their Mistress… I believe that she commands over them, ordering them to torment me until she is given the chance to… torture me…”</p><p> </p><p>The moment Father Siebren mentioned The Mistress and how she was the source of his nightmares, Father Harold glanced over his friend’s soiled cassock that was still on the floor and exhaled heavily. “And I’m guessing her torturous ways involved the pleasures of the flesh?”</p><p> </p><p>It took a few seconds for Father Siebren to give his fellow priest a trembling nod.</p><p> </p><p><em>Interesting, </em>Father Harold crossed his legs and rubbed his chin. “Tell me, Siebren. What did this ‘Mistress’ look like?” he asked, “maybe if you give me a clear description of this devil woman, I can take a look at some of the old texts in the library and find out what exactly we’re dealing with. There’s a chance that some of the old priests have encountered this type of demon and have found a way to exorcise it, hm?”</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren instantly felt a cold snap pierce through his spine. His friend’s request to describe The Mistress caused him to freeze, staring at Father Harold’s inquisitive expression. Questions started filling his mind, <em>How can I tell him…? Can I even tell him…? What will he think of me once I’ve said the truth!?</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>He then opened his mouth, which was dry from his anxiety, and spoke with a shaking voice, “She… She had a devil’s tail and horns like a ram’s.”</p><p> </p><p>“Alright,” Father Harold loosened up in his seat, “continue.”</p><p> </p><p>“She took the shape of a woman, but had sharp teeth and pointed ears.” As Father Siebren slowly revealed The Mistress’ appearance, his discomfort made him shift around in his seat, “Her skin; pale. And her hair was as red as hell’s flames!”</p><p> </p><p>A confused look was painted over Father Harold’s face. And although he encouraged his fellow priest to continue describing this demon, he began to wonder, <em>why is this demon beginning to sound so familiar…?</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“And her eyes…” Father Siebren paused for a moment to gulp down the saliva that was collecting in his throat, “were of different colors. Her right eye was red while the left was blue—”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, stop right there!” Father Harold interrupted as he leaned forward to raise his hand in front of his friend, “are you telling me that ‘The Mistress’ took the form of Sister Moira!?”</p><p> </p><p>“… Not just taking her form, Harold.” Father Siebren then pushed his friend’s hand to the side and looked into his eyes as if he was begging Father Harold to believe the next few words he was about to say. “I think Sister Moira <em>IS </em>The Mistress!”</p><p> </p><p>Father Harold could only stare at Father Siebren in complete bewilderment. “What!?” he blinked several times while shaking his head, trying to get rid of the connection his fellow priest expressed. “How can you say that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because…” Father Siebren suddenly confessed, “during breakfast, her devil’s tail teased me…”</p><p> </p><p>When Father Siebren shared his experience that morning, Father Harold immediately thought that his friend was joking. But the longer he looked at the other priest’s face, he saw the torment the demoness was causing him. So, although he couldn’t believe everything he said, he wouldn’t turn him away. Not this time.</p><p> </p><p>“…Siebren,” Father Harold spoke after taking a moment to collect his thoughts, “have you and Sister Moira met before?”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s the thing,” Father Siebren exclaimed, “I have never seen her before until today. I don’t recall ever meeting an Irish woman in The Netherlands. Not when I was a child and not during my teenage and even early adult years!”</p><p> </p><p>The bespectacled priest returned to sitting properly in his seat and thought aloud, “That’s peculiar,” he stated, “why would you dream about a person you’ve never met before?”</p><p> </p><p>“I think God is punishing me.” Father Siebren placed his hands on his lap and grabbed onto the fabric of his cassock tightly, causing the garment to wrinkle. “Harold, I think I have done something in the past that has displeased our Lord! This thing that I did must’ve weakened my faith, allowing the devil to send his spawn into my thoughts and not let me sleep or think straight, and the less I rest, the weaker I become and I—”</p><p> </p><p>“Siebren!” Father Harold stood up and held his friend by the shoulders to free him from his anxiety. “Calm down… Breathe…”</p><p> </p><p>Father Harold started taking deep breaths in hopes his fellow priest would follow suit. For the first few seconds, Father Siebren was having trouble getting the rhythm. But eventually, his hands stopped shaking and he began following his friend’s breathing pattern when his mind cleared.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>[Friedrich Kuhlau – Fantasie for Flute Solo Op. 38 D Major Adagio]</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Once he believed Father Siebren was stable, Father Harold crouched in front of him and looked at his friend with concern. “Siebren, I’ve said this countless times: you’re too kind of a man to be punished by God. You have done more than enough for the Lord. You have so much goodness in you that I think that the sins you have done in the past have already been forgiven… Maybe, this is just a test from God.”</p><p> </p><p>“A test?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes!” Father Harold responded. He then stood and placed his hands on his hips. “God tests his best people to see if their faith in him is still strong. And as you know, God will never give you a challenge he knows you can’t accomplish.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then why am I suffering too much!?” Father Siebren growled as he slammed his fist on his bed, “I do not want to question our Lord, but why is he letting me be tortured by such a creature!?”</p><p> </p><p>It pained Father Harold to see his friend in such aggravation. He too did not understand why God placed his friend through such agony in just a few short weeks. Although he knew that Father Siebren’s faith was stronger than his, he needed to do something—<em>anything</em>—to help his friend endure his test.</p><p> </p><p> “Maybe there’s a reason why our Lord is… <em>harsh</em> with your test.” Father Harold stood up and rubbed his hands together. “Maybe he wanted to you to be challenged, so you can come to me for help.” He then placed both his hands over his friend’s head.</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren examined his fellow priest’s movements and raised an eyebrow when he saw Father Harold place his hands over him. “What are you doing—?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Shhh</em>,” Father Harold quickly spoke over him, “we’re in prayer, Siebren.”</p><p> </p><p>When the bespectacled priest told him what he was doing, Father Siebren closed his eyes and bowed his head. Father Harold soon followed suit.</p><p> </p><p>“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, amen.” Father Harold started, “Almighty Father, thank you for giving us another blessed day. Thank you for always watching over us and shedding your light upon our church. We are but your humble servants, Lord, and we never ask for much.” He then took a deep breath and said, “but today I ask you to bless my friend, Siebren de Kuiper, and send one of your angels to watch over him as he’s going through your test. Though his faith is faltering, Siebren is one of the strongest, kindest, and most generous people I know. And I know that you won’t let him fail.”</p><p> </p><p>Upon hearing his friend’s thoughtful words, Father Siebren opened his eyes and looked at Father Harold’s face. He can sense the complete concentration on his friend’s serene expression and felt the love that was coming from his every word. As Father Harold continued with his prayer, Father Siebren took this peaceful moment to speak to himself.</p><p> </p><p><em>Everything will be fine, Siebren, </em>he thought with a smile, <em>telling Harold the truth lifted a bit of the burden weighing in your chest… Just keep it together and you’ll see things through. </em></p><p> </p><p>As Father Harold’s prayer was coming to an end, he raised his tone to praise the Lord, “… In Jesus’ name, amen.”</p><p> </p><p>“Amen…” Father Siebren whispered.</p><p> </p><p>Once Father Harold was done, he lowered his hands and gave Father Siebren a comforting smile. “I hope this blessing helps you during your test, Siebren.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, Harold.” Father Siebren let out a sigh of relief, “I think I’m feeling quite better.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m glad I was able to help!” Father Harold then laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “So, what do you want to do now that I have placed a blessing upon you?” He chuckled.</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren looked to the side to think for a moment. “I’m not sure.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, if you’re up to it, we can join the others in the church.” Father Harold suggested. “I asked Father Baptiste to give our guest a tour of our place and meet me there once he’s done.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think… I think I’m ready to meet them again.” Father Siebren stood up from his bed and took a deep breath to collect his courage. “Your blessing will help keep me at ease… But please wait outside and give me a few minutes to change?” he said with a tinge of embarrassment in his voice, “I want to look decent in front of them.</p><p> </p><p>Once Father Siebren has changed into cleaner clothes, he left his room and headed for the church with Father Harold walking beside him.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Having Father Harold bless him was everything Father Siebren needed to find his stride again. Knowing that God and his friend’s best intentions are empowering him, he was ready to face their guests, but more specifically with Sister Moira. The thought of her being The Mistress hasn’t left his mind. However, with the power of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit guiding him, he felt the warm embrace of the holy light empower him.</p><p> </p><p>When he and Father Harold entered the church, Father Baptiste had just finished with the tour. Father Baptiste was standing before the altar with their guests surrounding him. </p><p> </p><p>“Ah, Father Harold, Father Siebren,” Father Baptiste greeted his fellow priests with a big smile on his face, “you came just in time. I’m done showing them around and mentioned the different tasks they’ll be doing during their stay.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s wonderful, Father Baptiste.” Father Harold exclaimed as he and Father Siebren approached the group. “I apologize if our accommodations aren’t as grand as your church in Dublin, but I hope it’ll suit you just fine, Sister Agnes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, don’t be like that Father Harold,” Sister Agnes jested, “I think your community is quite lovely. Even Father Liam is impressed by its quaintness.”</p><p> </p><p>Father Liam nodded at Sister Agnes’ remark.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I almost forgot,” Sister Agnes turned to Sister Moira who was standing behind her, “we have something for you.” She then gestured the orange-haired nun to come forward. “We heard that you use the town’s old bell during mass. And although that is an interesting method to preserve Tralee’s history, it is causing problems for some townsfolk, yes?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, so you know about that.” Father Harold responded. “Who told you?</p><p> </p><p>“Bishop Len Brennan, who else?” Sister Agnes said with a chuff. “He was concerned that the bell was making people lose focus during mass. So, Sister Moira here gave him a wonderful suggestion. Isn’t that right Sister?”</p><p> </p><p>“Y-yes, Sister.” Moira answered with a stutter. Seeing Father Siebren again made her very conscious about her movements. As she walked forward, she stretched out her hands towards Father Harold.</p><p> </p><p>Father Harold noticed that Sister Moira was carrying a wooden box in her hands. The container was big enough to rest comfortably between her grasp. Judging by the color and smoothness of the box, it’s made from rowan, a native tree in Ireland. There was nothing special about it, as it came plain, except for a bronze latch that kept its contents secure.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, thank you, Sister Moira. How thoughtful of you.” He said as he took the box from her hands. Once it was in his possession, Father Harold opened the box and was surprised to see what was inside. “Oh, this is a wonderful gift. Thank you! We’ve had trouble getting our hands on one of these, given that we don’t have the funds to buy one.” He said with a chuckle. He then turned to Father Siebren to show him what was inside. “Take a look, Father.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>With a curious look on his face, Father Siebren stepped closer to take a peek at what’s inside the box.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>An altar bell!!</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Once he confirmed the item, he picked it up from its handle, which made the four bells that were attached to it to chime. Their sound was softer and more peaceful than that of the church’s bronze bell.</p><p> </p><p>“Bishop Len Brennan told us that there are people in Tralee who are left traumatized by the war and that the bell was causing their nightmares to resurface.” Sister Moira spoke softly, looking at Father Siebren with shy eyes, “So I thought giving you a new altar bell could solve that problem.”</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren examined the new church equipment closely and admired its silver construction. “How thoughtful of you Sister,” he said with a smile, “it’s perfect! The people of Tralee will love your gift.”</p><p> </p><p>Sister Moira clasped her hands and squeezed them together to try and prevent the nervousness that was consuming her. “I… I also want to apologize for earlier,” she said, still looking at Father Siebren, “I didn’t know that you were also suffering from PTSD. I had no intentions of bringing up any of your memories of the war. I—”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s alright, Sister Moira.” Father Siebren said before returning the bells in the box. “It’s just as you said, you didn’t know. I should be the one apologizing to you for making you feel uncomfortable during breakfast.” He then gave Sister Moira a pleasant smile to help calm her nerves. “So let’s start fresh, shall we?”</p><p> </p><p>Sister Moira’s eyes brightened when she heard the Father’s gentle response. “Of course! Thank you, Father Siebren.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For many Catholics, receiving a blessing from a priest isn’t enough to give them the courage to face the challenges of the Lord. They believe that they have a better chance of strengthening their faith by combining the blessing with other religious acts like ignoring their temptations, giving alms to the poor, and praying the rosary several times a day. But for the people of Tralee, being blessed by Father Harold gave them the power and protection they needed to overcome any trial that would test their faith. Every time someone asked for the priest’s help or finished confessing their sins to him, Father Harold would end their sessions with a blessing and they’d immediately feel renewed. No one could really explain why the priest’s presence and words had a calming, healing effect. But the people of Tralee would rather not question it, and just be thankful that God sent them a benevolent man to take over their church. And this was a custom Father Siebren quickly learned.</p><p> </p><p>During his first few weeks working with Father Harold, Father Siebren mostly kept to himself. The memories of the war were still fresh, and being surrounded by people he did not know made him anxious to the point where he almost became violent. However, whenever Father Harold would visit his quarters and spare an hour or two of his day to talk to him, Father Siebren immediately felt the arms of God embrace him, calming his body and mind.</p><p> </p><p>As someone who has experienced Father Harold’s ability to bolster one’s faith in the Lord, Father Siebren is determined that his friend’s blessing would help keep him together. But the fact that Sister Moira is staying in the seminary and will be working with him—for who knows how long—allowed his doubt to linger.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Shall we get started then?” Father Harold exclaimed as he looked at the small group before him.</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren lifted his head towards his fellow priest and said, “Get started for what?”</p><p> </p><p>“Have you already forgotten, Father Siebren?” Father Baptiste chuckled under his nose, “I’ve just given our guests their tasks.”</p><p> </p><p>“Care to elaborate what they were again?” Father Harold said as he lightly nudged Father Baptiste’s arm with his elbow, “I believe Father Siebren was unable to join us after breakfast.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, right, right. My apologies.” Father Baptiste cleared his throat and clasped his hands together, “For the first month, we three are going to assist our guests with the duties I’ve assigned them. We’ll be rotating our tasks, so they can familiarize themselves with the people of Tralee. I also took the liberty of pairing ourselves up. I’ll be partnered with Father Liam, Father Harold with Sister Moira, and Father Siebren with Sister Agnes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, Father Baptiste.” Father Harold turned to everyone and said with a chirp, “Now gentlemen, let’s help our guest feel right at home, shall we?</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>[Isaac Albéniz– Tango from España OP. 165 No. 2]</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Father Siebren was relieved that he had been partnered up with Sister Agnes. He was grateful that his fellow priests were able to notice how uncomfortable the red-headed nun made him feel during breakfast, and took this into account when it came to creating their teams. He felt elated that a heavy weight was lifted from his shoulders. However, his joy became the source of his distraction while he was performing his task for the day.</p><p> </p><p>“Uhm… Father Siebren?” Sister Agnes raised her head to try and get the priest’s attention.</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren did not respond and continued humming a happy tune.</p><p> </p><p>“Father Siebren!” Sister Agnes raised her tone as she held his hand that was holding an unpeeled onion, “Will the skin add flavor to the broth?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hm?” With his head still elsewhere, Father Siebren turned his head towards Sister Agnes, looking as if he acknowledged her question.</p><p> </p><p>Though Sister Agnes exuded a bright and cheery disposition, she was an impatient woman. The position she held in her congregation didn’t allow her to let her peers fall behind from their duties because one slip up could offset their plans in their religious calendar. That’s why when she notices anyone slacking around, she’d immediately dart her eyes towards them and reprimand them for not doing their tasks. However, she was dealing with Father Siebren, so she needed to soften her approach.</p><p> </p><p>Sister Agnes grabbed the onion that was in Father Siebren’s hand and began peeling it, “Father, are you sure you’re feeling better?”</p><p> </p><p>Surprised that the Sister took the bulbous vegetable off of him, Father Siebren finally placed his full attention on her, “Of course I am, Sister!” he said in a mirthful tone as he grabbed another onion from a small pile behind them, “Why are you asking?”</p><p> </p><p>Sister Agnes pointed at the large copper stock pot that was on the stove in front of them. Father Siebren led his eyes towards the beef stew boiling in the pot and noticed 5 white onions with their skins still on bobbing in the thick broth.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh… My apologies,” he said, pacing the knife he was holding on his right hand on the kitchen counter next to him before grabbing a slotted spoon from the kitchen utensil cabinet.  He then preceded to fish the unpeeled onions out of the pot.</p><p> </p><p>With the white onion now fully peeled, Sister Agnes laid it on the chopping board before her and started cutting into quarters, “You seem to be in a jolly mood,” she said with a smirk, “I’m guessing that nap of yours did wonders.”</p><p> </p><p>Using a portion of the white apron he was wearing, Father Siebren gingerly cusped a semi-boiled onion in one hand and carefully peeled it with the other. He can still feel the heat of the vegetable even when there’s a layer of cloth protecting his hands, but he smiled through the entire process. “Ah, I wasn’t able to get any proper sleep at all,” he confessed, “but Father Harold gave me a few encouraging words to join you and the others again.” He said, placing the now peeled white onion on his chopping board.</p><p> </p><p>“Ohhh…” Sister Agnes responded; her lips curled as she presumed that the priest wasn’t telling the whole truth, “Are you sure you’re not happy because you’re relieved that you’re not teamed up with Sister Moira?”</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren grabbed for the next unpeeled, cooked white onion when the nun asked him. She caught him off guard, which caused him to drop the hot vegetable on the counter, “Wh—What are you saying, Sister!?” he stuttered with an unsure joking tone as he reached for the onion, “I’m genuinely enjoying our time together! My mind’s just been elsewhere because of lack of sleep and—<em>ACK!” </em>Without him realizing, the priest reached for the hot, unpeeled onion with his bare hand.</p><p> </p><p>The sister let out a titter between her teeth, “Forgive me for laughing, Father, but the face you just made was funny.” She grabbed her knife and pierced the vegetable that scalded the priest’s hand. She then plopped it onto her cutting board and proceeded to peel it with her bare, calloused hands.</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren had never seen anyone peel a hot onion with their bare hands before and the quick work Sister Agnes made with it amazed him.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, don’t worry about feeling cautious around Sister Moira,” Sister Agnes spoke as she took an unpeeled, cook onion from the priest’s chopping board to peel it, “she can be a bit inquisitive and blunt… I remember the first time she was dropped off in our church. BOY was she a handful.” A laugh escaped her as she recalled a few memories with the red-headed Sister.</p><p> </p><p>“Uhm… Tell me, Sister Agnes,” Father Siebren reached for another onion, but this time he made sure to use his apron, “what’s it like working and living with Sister Moira?” He asked as he brought his eyes towards the vegetable he was peeling, “I… I just want to understand her a little better, you know? To help lessen my… uneasiness when I’m around her.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah yes, that could help you,” with her eyes glued to the naked onion before her, she grabbed her knife once more and started chopping, “She is, for the lack of a better term, a rebellious spirit in our church. That didn’t surprise me since she was dropped off by her father who forced her into wearing a religious habit.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh!” Father Siebren turned to the Sister with bewildered eyebrows, “Sister Moira didn’t join you willingly?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sadly, no,” the Sister answered sighing, “She was one of those cases where her family wanted to preserve her purity. During the first three weeks, she caused us a lot of trouble. She even almost burned down our adoration chapel!”</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren was left with his mouth hanging wide open when the Sister shared that piece of information without a shred of embarrassment in her voice.</p><p> </p><p>“But the bishop quickly forgave her and didn’t give her any punishment… That’s because her father paid him handsomely to not spread the news.” She quickly said under her breath.</p><p> </p><p>“I beg your pardon, but I didn’t catch that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, it’s nothing, it’s nothing.” The Sister waved her hand to get of any ill thoughts clouding her mind, “She wanted to be a woman of science, Father,” she stated to help her get right back on the topic at hand, “so she was experimenting on some chemicals she stole in our farm.</p><p> </p><p>“Burn!? Stole!?” Father Siebren shook his head, “Sister, forgive me for being frank, but I don’t think anyone with her character is fit to join any religious order.”</p><p> </p><p>“I thought so too!” Sister Agnes exclaimed with haste, “But after her first month with us, she quickly adapted to our ways and became a beacon of light for our community.” She then stopped chopping the remaining onions on her board and turned towards Father Siebren. “I know Sister Moira’s presence can be jarring. But God works in mysterious ways. Who knows, maybe in the next couple of days you two would become great friends. Just keep your faith in Him, and I’m sure things will work out.”</p><p> </p><p>Though Father Siebren had some doubts on Sister Moira’s sudden change in character, he shamed himself for placing judgement on her too early. He had only met the Sister once, and just because she looked like The Mistress in his dreams, it doesn’t mean that they are one and the same.</p><p> </p><p><em>Sister Agnes and Harold are right, </em>he thought, <em>I shouldn’t lose faith in our Lord. Maybe he is testing me and teaching me a lesson about acceptance. </em>He looked at Sister Agnes with a pleasant smile and gave her quick nods, “Alright, Sister. And thank you for sharing that with me. It helped.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wonderful! Now, let’s get back to cooking. We don’t want the people in town to get too hungry now.” She chuckled.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>After an hour of rigorous work, Sister Agnes and Father Siebren finally finished cooking two large batches of beef stew. As part of their religious mission, the church of Tralee took it upon themselves to feed the poor and homeless three times a week; this was two days more than what most churches in the country offered. As they were heading towards the front of the church, the priest couldn’t help but hold a big grin on his face as he pushed an old platform cart that carried the large stock pots. He was also humming a bright and cheery hymn, which also placed Sister Agnes in a happy mood. Once outside, they were greeted by Father Harold and Sister Moira who were standing next to Mr. Murphy’s pickup truck.</p><p> </p><p>“There you are! Father Harold greeted the two with open arms, “I was about to send Sister Moira to the kitchen because I worried that you weren’t going to make it in time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, you know me, Father,” Sister Agnes chuckled, “I make sure that we’re always on schedule.”</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren rolled the cart behind the pickup and loaded the stock pots on the bed. Sister Moira walked next to him and inspected the cargo. “Food, water, baked goods…” she listed down everything she saw, “even the generosity in our church in Dublin can’t compare to what you do every week!”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, there are a lot of folks in town that need our help,” Father Siebren responded while closing the vehicle’s tailgate, “even though they don’t show it, many of them are going through internal struggles. So please, Sister, I want you to be as kind as you can when serving them.”</p><p> </p><p>The softness in his eyes and smile conveyed the genuine love the priest had for the people of Tralee. And the Sister could feel it the moment her body shuddered in awe and her heterochromatic eyes shaking with inspiration. “Of course, Father. I’ll make sure that they’re left in great hands.”</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, Sister. We’d better get moving,” Father Harold hit the side of the truck to get the driver’s attention, “Mr. Murphy, start the truck!”</p><p> </p><p>A few seconds later, the truck’s exhaust released a sputter and its engine gurgled. The two sisters were baffled that the church was content in using a rusty farmer’s truck for their community service.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry,” Mr. Murphy looked out through the passenger side window, showing his thin face, “she might be old, but she’s reliable… and safe!” He reassured them.</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren opened the passenger side door and gestured Sister Moira inside, “Have a pleasant trip, Sister.”</p><p>“I know I will!” Sister Moira exclaimed before entering the vehicle.</p><p> </p><p>“Siebren,” Father Harold held his fellow priest gently by the shoulder to get his attention, “I know you still have several tasks to do today, but do your best to take it easy. Okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“I will, Harold. Thanks for your concern.”</p><p> </p><p>Father Harold patted his friend’s shoulder twice before hopping in the truck. Once all the passengers were inside, Mr. Murphy drove off to town. Father Siebren and Sister Agnes watched the truck until it exited the church compound.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Given Father Siebren’s condition, as well as his age, Father Harold assigned him duties that wouldn’t raise his stress levels. Of course, Father Siebren still did his priestly tasks like administering confessions, baptisms, and the anointing of the sick, but only in very rare occasions when Father Harold or Father Baptiste was sick or unavailable. On most days, he would do—what most people would think are—mundane tasks. But to Father Siebren, tending to the church’s garden, sorting out the books in the library, and helping out Mrs. Murphy with light chores filled his days and gave him great joy. However, as the sun descended and the sky wore the shades of dusk, the fear of seeing The Mistress in his nightmares crawled out from the back of his mind. And by the time night fell, he was afraid of getting into bed and falling asleep.</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren stared at his bed with his entire body shaking. He did his best to prolong his nightly bath in hopes of giving him time to chase his fears away. But the minute he entered his room, visions of the demoness and her creatures started swirling in his thoughts. And yet, he sensed a glimmer of hope in him. Though the light was small, he held onto it and used its warmth to give him the courage to sleep. He took a few breaths and remembered that he is also protected by Father Harold’s blessing. And that gave him comfort as he slid under his sheets.</p><p> </p><p>He stared at the cobblestone ceiling and said a little a prayer, <em>Lord, </em>he thought, <em>if this is a test, then I gladly accept it. If it is meant to test my faith, then know that I will not break my promise with you. And with Harold’s blessing and the well-wishes of my friends by my side, I know I’ll succeed.</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>Father Siebren let the weight of exhaustion close his eyes, and the next time he opened them, he was greeted by the sounds of the birds’ morning calls and the sun shining in his room.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><em>Am I… Dreaming? </em>He reached out to the ceiling and took a few seconds for his vision to refocus. Once he can see his fingers clearly, he placed his hand on his face and felt the warmth of his skin and his breath. “I’m awake,” he murmured to himself, “and I didn’t see her last night… I DIDN’T SEE HER LAST NIGHT!” He roared as he sat up on his bed.</p><p>It has been a long time since Father Siebren had a good night’s sleep. So, when he was finally able to get a full night’s rest without The Mistress torturing him, he couldn’t believe it. He was shaking in excitement. He then stroked the crotch area of his nightgown and felt that it was completely dry. A triumphant smile drew upon his face.</p><p> </p><p>“HAROLD’S BLESSING WORKED!” He exclaimed. “IT WORKED!”</p><p> </p><p>Jumping out of bed, he quickly ran towards his cabinet and started getting dressed. Free from waking up in shame, Father Siebren took the opportunity to exalt in his unbridled happiness with every movement he made. He hummed a simple yet cheery tune as he wore every piece of his cassock. Then, he licked the palm of his hand and ran it through his hair to flatten the messy strands. He had a bit of trouble putting on his shoes, but once they were on, he headed towards the door. His face showed that he was ready to take on his tasks today with Sister Agnes. But, the moment the door, he felt his stomach sink when he was greeted by Sister Moira’s heterochromatic orbs.</p><p> </p><p> “Oh! Good morning, Father Siebren,” Sister Moira jolted when the priest suddenly opened his bedroom door. She was about to knock on it, but she her hand behind her back in haste.</p><p> </p><p>“G… Good morning, Sister.” Father Siebren took a big gulp before stepping outside and closing the door behind him. “What brings you here?”</p><p> </p><p>“Father Harold sent me,” she answered; her voice as soft as a bird’s chirp, “he wanted to speak with us in his office.”</p><p> </p><p><em>Strange, </em>Father Siebren thought, raising an eyebrow as his eyes looked elsewhere, <em>Harold would never call me to his office unless it’s something quite important. </em>“Do you know the reason why we’re being summing?” He asked the Sister.</p><p> </p><p>Sister Moira answered by shaking her head.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh dear, this is a bit serious. Follow me, we don’t want Father Harold to be waiting.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Father Harold’s office wasn’t far from the priest’s quarters, so it only took Father Siebren and Sister Moira less than a minute to arrive. Once inside, they saw Father Harold sitting on a leather back chair behind his large oak desk and Sister Agnes standing next to him.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, Sister, Father, I’m glad that you’re here. Please, have a seat.” Father Harold gestured his hands towards the two oak seats in front of his desk.</p><p> </p><p>Sister Moira and Father Siebren obliged.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry to have summoned you two this early in the morning, but I’m afraid something has come up.” Father Harold stated, looking at the two holy individuals in front of him.</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren could see the worry in his fellow priest’s face as he watched him rest his elbows on the desk and rested his bearded chin on the top of his hands. “What seems to be the problem?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s the bishop,” Sister Agnes responded, “I’m sorry for interrupting Father Harold, but we are pressed for time.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s alright, Sister. I’m just not enthused whenever my schedule is suddenly rearranged. Especially when we have you here.” Father Harold sighed.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, but,” Sister Moira turned to Father Siebren, “we don’t seem to follow what’s going on.”</p><p> </p><p>“Bishop Len Brenan is… In a bit of a tight spot,” Father Harold said with a taste of displeasure in his mouth, “he needs help straightening out a few delinquent priests over at Craggy Island, and he wants me and Sister Agnes to oversee them.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Father Siebren said in a shock; his mouth left agape, “why all of a sudden? Why now?”</p><p> </p><p>“It seems that Father Ted Crilly, Father Dougal McGuire, and Father Jack Hackett created quite a ruckus in their town. And their misdeeds have reached The Vatican.” Sister Agnes explained.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s that serious?”</p><p> </p><p>“Quite serious, Father Siebren.” Father Harold said without batting an eye.</p><p> </p><p>“Then… When are you heading to Craggy Island?” Sister Moira spoke with a soft voice. “If the situation is severe, shouldn’t you be leaving today?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well… That’s easier said than done.” Father Harold sat properly in his seat in hopes it would help him relax. But knowing that the next things he’ll say could send both Sister Moira and Father Siebren in a state of panic made his shoulders tense up. “I know you aren’t familiar with that place, Father. But you know anything about Craggy Island, Sister?”</p><p> </p><p>“Only from what I’ve read from the newspapers.” Sister Moira answered. “I know that the island has been there for centuries, but all the information the news outlets tell us is the number of their population and daily weather forecast.”</p><p> </p><p>“There’s a reason why Craggy Island is shrouded in mystery.” Father Harold paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “What I’m about to tell you is confidential, so please keep this to yourselves… Got it?”</p><p> </p><p>Sister Moira and Father Siebren looked at one another before returning their attention to the bespectacled priest. “We will, Father.”</p><p> </p><p>“Craggy Island… is used as a dumping ground for nuclear waste—at least only its coastal line.” Father Harold confessed.</p><p> </p><p>“What!?”</p><p> </p><p>“The state gave the British permission to use it this way, and revealing this secret to any common man is considered treason.” Father Harold bit his tongue after saying the last word. “As a man of God, I couldn’t accept any of this… But I have no means to fight back. The Irish government is receiving compensation from this, and I just…” He couldn’t find any more words to describe his frustrations. He was at the verge of tears.</p><p> </p><p>The defeated look on Father Harold’s face resonated with everyone in the room, causing the air to stand still. Everyone knew that, that of all people, Father Harold had a heart of gold, and seeing him so distraught made the atmosphere a little more somber.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s enough, Father,” Sister Agnes approached the sullen priest and rested a hand on his shoulder, “don’t dwell on it too much. Besides, we’ll be there to at least bring some hope and joy to the island. After all, that’s what we as Lord’s servants do.” She said with a smile.</p><p> </p><p>“… Thank you, Sister.” Father Harold lifted his head towards her and returned her reassuring smile another. He then cleared his throat and said, “Now, let’s get on to business... The reason why I called for you two this morning is because we want you to take care of our responsibilities here.”</p><p> </p><p>“What!?” Father Siebren stood up from his seat and started to sweat. He could feel his heart starting to race, “But you don’t even know when you’re leaving? Isn’t it better if you continued to lead the church before then?”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s exactly the problem, Father.” Father Harold raised his voice to get his point through the agitated priest, “We don’t know exactly when we’ll depart for Craggy Island, so they might fetch us without a moment’s notice. Besides, Sister Agnes and I will be busy. We need to make all the necessary preparations to ensure that we don’t get radiation during our stay.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren’s mind was swirling. He couldn’t understand why Father Harold would ask him to take care of the church under his stead. “What about Father Baptiste? He’s more suited to watch over the church. After all, he’s been here longer than I have and I—”</p><p> </p><p>“Siebren!” Father Harold roared as his head trembled in anger. His current predicament was stressing him out, and Father Siebren’s outburst was making it worse. He vexed at his friend with a serious look on his face, and contained his fury in his brown orbs.</p><p> </p><p>When Father Siebren noticed that his fellow priest suddenly fell silent after shouting his name, he closed his mouth shut and swallowed the lump of saliva that was building up in his throat. Very rarely has he seen Father Harold this furious. So, to avoid provoking his anger, he slowly sat back down.</p><p> </p><p>“Forgive me, Siebren…” Father Harold took a deep breath and exhaled all of the heat that was in his chest. “But you must understand that I need you. Father Baptiste might’ve been here longer, but you have more experience running a church than he does, so I trust you more… Besides, you won’t be alone.” He then turned towards the Sister sitting beside his fellow priest, “Sister Moira will help you, won’t you Sister?”</p><p> </p><p>“O… Of course!” Sister Moira stuttered, still shocked from witnessing Father Harold’s rage.</p><p> </p><p>“Then, it’s settled. Starting tomorrow, you’ll be handling my responsibilities, Siebren. But for now, I want you to take care of the tasks you were assigned to do today. Oh, and Sister Moira will be joining you from now on. Am I making myself clear?”</p><p> </p><p>Father Harold stared at Father Siebren straight into his eyes and gave him a look that expressed that he would not accept any objections.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Father Harold.” Father Siebren lowered his head and looked at the ground, “I understand.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Fun Fact: Craggy Island is the name of the fictional island that serves as the primary setting of Father Ted. Father Ted is a sitcom about three priests who were sent to the island as punishment from misdeeds. Father Ted Crilly, Father Dougal McGuire, and Father Jack Hackett are characters from the show. </p><p>I've only seen like 15 episodes of this show, and I love it. xD</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello dear Readers and a happy 2021 to all,</p><p>Last year was rough and it was a very difficult year for all of us. But I just want you to know that you are all amazing, incredible, and strong individuals who have made it to a brand new year. Although a lot of things are still unknown in 2021, let’s  all do our best to make it a fruitful year. Let's be kind to one another and to ourselves, and celebrate even the smallest achievements we do each day!</p><p>About the lack of posting for the last two months, I must apologize. December 2020 was the only time I got to spend time with my family after not seeing them for almost 10 months due to the pandemic.  So I wanted to focus that month on them, so I hope you understand. </p><p> </p><p>About the future chapters, don't worry, I'll  still write them. I said to myself that I'll finish this fic. But it'll take longer. Work just sucks all of my energy, so I can barely write anything when I get home. </p><p>On a positive note, the other reason why the next chapters will take a while is that I started doing digital art. It's nothing fancy or professional; it's purely just for fun. And I might include some illustrations in the future  chapters.</p><p> <br/>Thank you all so much again for reading my stories and supporting my writing hobbies. I hope you still enjoy reading them. </p><p>I love you all and let's make 2021 a great year!</p><p> </p><p>With lots of love,</p><p>- Biak911</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> [Pablo de Sarasate – Navarra Op. 33] </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Being given Father Harold’s responsibilities was unprecedented, and it somehow broke the cheery mood that propelled Father Siebren that morning. Taking care of the Church of Tralee was notoriously tough, all because of the high standards his fellow priest has set. Under Father Harold’s care, the Church of Tralee turned from a rundown congregation in the country, into a place of worship that could rival those in Ireland’s bigger cities. Father Harold also didn’t use any monetary assistance to achieve this. His down-to-earth personality, welcoming arms, and love for God’s people were enough to bring the citizens of Tralee together and take care of their beloved church as one.</p><p> </p><p>Even though Father Siebren has more than a decade’s experience in his vocation, upholding the reputation of the Kerry county church was a challenging task. For him, three years didn’t seem like enough time to build up the confidence he needed to do more for the people in town. He wouldn’t deny that he has forged good relationships with the townsfolk, but even then, he still had doubts that they’d let a foreigner lead their church.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Ahem… </em> Father Siebren?” Sister Moira raised her head towards him.</p><p> </p><p>Still in shock by the news, Father Siebren was staring blankly at the garden. He wasn’t able to hear the nun as his thoughts were filled with the noise of his self-doubt.</p><p> </p><p>“F- Father?” Sister Moira held the priest by his right sleeve and gave it a light tug. “Is everything alright?”</p><p> </p><p>Though her pull was gentle, it was powerful enough to break Father Siebren from his deep thinking. He slowly turned his head towards her and saw her face grow with worry. He, on the other hand, was still in disbelief.</p><p> </p><p>“Something’s not right…” Sister Moira uttered. She frantically looked around to see if she could find anything or anyone to help the priest snap out of his daze. “Maybe if I run back inside and ask Father Baptiste to—”</p><p> </p><p>The more concerned Sister Moira became, the more her voice shook with worry. Although she had patched things up with the priest, Sister Moira saw her relationship with Father Siebren as something fragile. She needed to be extra careful around him, making sure that she won’t say or do anything that can trigger his condition. And because of this, she is quick to panic whenever she thought Father Siebren was provoked by her presence.</p><p> </p><p>“N… No, Sister…” Father Siebren uttered when he realized his composure was making the nun worry. “I’m alright.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure?”</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. “Yes, Sister. I’m perfectly fine. It just takes a while to…” Father Siebren paused for a moment as he was searching for the right words to explain his state. “Process… Yes, process everything that just happened.”</p><p> </p><p>Watching the priest come to the realization of his new responsibility didn’t help Sister Moira calm down. She knew that the more anxious Father Siebren became, the more likely he’d breakdown. So, to help him feel at ease, the nun did her best to cheer him up.</p><p> </p><p>“For what it’s worth, Father,” She looked at him with caring eyes, “I think you’ll do a great great job managing the church in Father Harold’s stead.”</p><p> </p><p>“You think so?” He replied, looking at her all surprised.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes!” Sister Moira gleamed to restore the confidence back into the priest. “During our tour of the compound, Father Baptiste kept saying how you have helped improve the relations between the church and the townsfolk.” She turned towards the priest and with a kind expression on her face she said, “So, I think the people in Tralee trust you enough to take good care of their church.”</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren slowly looked towards the patch of yellow tulips in his garden and took a few seconds to contemplate what the nun said. He then let out a light chuckle, “Sister, I’m flattered by your words. But we’ve only just met. Are you sure you want to place your faith in a stranger even if you don’t know much about him?”</p><p> </p><p>Slightly taken aback by his words, Moira fell silent for a moment. However, she quickly regained her enthusiasm when she thought of her response. “I’m willing to take a leap of faith.”</p><p> </p><p>Looking at her soft smile helped calm his nerves. Father Siebren felt his heart returning to its normal pace. “Very well then, Sister.” He shot her a smile back. “Now, let’s start with our first task for today hmm?”</p><p> </p><p>The first task in today’s agenda is taking care of the church’s garden. It’s Father Siebren’s most favorite activity because not only is he surrounded by the beautiful flowers he planted, but he also gets to enjoy the garden’s ambiance in peace and work at his own pace. Usually, he’d be tending the garden alone. He has tried asking his fellow priests to join him, but after 10 minutes watering, removing weeds, and adding mulch in the soil, they’d tell him that they had other business to attend to and excuse themselves. Father Siebren was used to this, so he didn’t mind if Sister Moira did the same.</p><p> </p><p>However, after an hour had passed, Father Siebren was pleasantly surprised to see Sister Moira still working with him. </p><p> </p><p>“How are we doing over there?” Father Siebren turned his attention to Sister Moira who was sweeping the scattered leaves around the fountain. He, on the other hand, was kneeling on the ground and pulling out the weeds from the tulip bed.</p><p> </p><p>“Doing well, Father. Thank you for checking up on me.” Sister Moira giggled as she swept a few leaves towards a pile in the corner. </p><p> </p><p>Hearing the sound of the hard broom brushing against the stone floor was a lovely addition to his regular routine. Having someone spend time with him in the garden, even if it was mostly in complete silence, made him feel appreciated. Nevertheless, he couldn’t shake the thought that the nun was just doing this to make amends for the ‘discomfort’ she caused the other day.</p><p> </p><p>“Uhmm, Sister?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Father?” The nun responded without leaving her attention on the leaves she was sweeping. </p><p> </p><p>“I… Uhmm…” Father Siebren was frantically searching for a topic. He wanted to break the silence between them and somehow loosen the tension that was created on the day they met. “I… I wanted to ask how your trip with Father Harold went?”</p><p> </p><p>Sister Moira stopped sweeping and rested her arm on the tip of the broom’s handle. “It was lovely!” She said with a vibrant smile. “The townsfolk are kind and caring. Some of them even offered to help us serve the food to those in need.” </p><p> </p><p>“Well, I’m glad that they were able to show you the heartwarming hospitality the people of Tralee are known for.” The priest let out a chuckle that made his shoulders bounce. “Anything interesting happened while you were there?”</p><p> </p><p>“I was quite shocked to see a lot of people come up to me and try to start a conversation.” The Sister replied. She casually walked towards the priest who was still kneeling on the ground. “The people of Tralee are also an inquisitive bunch, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“They’re just excited to meet someone from the capital.” Father Siebren explained. He was happy to see that the Sister finds their conversation engaging. “Many of them have dreams of visiting Dublin for vacation, work, or starting a new life.” </p><p> </p><p>Sister Moira let out a chortle. “Ah, yes. They won’t stop talking about that. Although, I did meet an interesting fellow yesterday… What was his name…?” Using her index finger, she tapped on her chin and did her best to remember the name of the person she met. "Rory? Yes, Rory!”</p><p> </p><p>“Rory!?” Siebren said with a puzzled look on his face. “Rory!? The town drunk Rory!? That Rory!?” </p><p> </p><p>Sister Moira quickly looked at him and was surprised with his reaction. “Yes! Lanky man, maybe around his late 30s, and has very tired eyes… That Rory.”</p><p> </p><p>“… What made your meeting with Rory interesting?” He asked shyly, glancing his eyes to the side. “I hope he didn’t do anything too brash.”</p><p> </p><p>“He did nothing of the sort!” She immediately said. “When I approached him, he was a bit hesitant to speak to me. But eventually, he opened up and talked about his family, what he’s currently up to, and what  his aspirations for his future were.”</p><p> </p><p>“… He told you all that?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yes… Why are you so surprised?”</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren fell silent for a few moments before answering her. “It’s just… I’ve known Rory for more than a year now and he has never told me about his family… Or his dreams of his future.”</p><p> </p><p>“… Well, he did tell me that he wanted to spend more time with you and tell you more about his life. But he says that the church doesn’t allow you to stay out for too long.”</p><p> </p><p>“Unfortunately, yes.” The priest lowered his head. “Being surrounded by a lot of people for several hours tires me out fast. And when my body is exhausted, I get extremely anxious…”</p><p> </p><p>As the priest was telling the nun his reason behind his lack of outside activities, Sister Moira could see Father Siebren’s face turn from disappointment to hurt. And when he stopped speaking, she knelt done before him and rested a hand on his shoulder.</p><p>“Father…”</p><p> </p><p>“I want to do more for the people of Tralee. I want to offer a helping hand and lend an ear as much as I can!” Father Siebren growled. “But this blasted condition of mine is holding me back and I just…”</p><p> </p><p>“Father Siebren, breathe!” Sister Moira exclaimed as she stroked the back of the aggravated priest.</p><p> </p><p>While Father Siebren was releasing his frustrations living with PTSD, he had failed to realize that his anger was getting the best of him. The sister’s voice may be soft, but it had the power to get through to him. As he felt the sister’s palm brush against his strong and wide back, he timed his breathing to her strokes. He eventually calmed down.</p><p> </p><p>“T-thank you, Sister.” When the priest was finally able to get his bearings, he breathed in deeply and released a warm breath. “I… I’m sorry that you’re seeing me panic… Again.”</p><p> </p><p>“There’s no need to apologize.” She continued stroking his back. “The war has left so many people physically and mentally wounded. So many people are suffering from the consequences of a war they did not partake in or want to happen.” Sister Moira then grabbed the priest’s hands and clasped them in hers. “Which is why many of us are doing our best to understand the victims’ struggles, and do our part to help them overcome the horrors they’ve experienced.”</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren looked into the nun’s caring heterochromatic eyes and felt a wave of warmth fill his chest. “S… Sister…”</p><p> </p><p>Sister Moira then gingerly placed the priest’s hands on his lap and gave him a smile. “So don’t feel bad if you suddenly breakdown… I’ll be here to listen and help.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re too kind.” Father Siebren uttered. He was on the verge of tears. “The people here are truly too kind…”</p><p> </p><p>Sister Moira returned to caressing his back and the moment her hand touched him, Father Siebren cried. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It took Father Siebren a few minutes to release the tears of gratitude. He still couldn’t fathom the amount of support he’s receiving in Tralee, and he had no one else to thank but his friends and God for giving him the privilege to be in his position. He knows that he’s lucky to be alive and live in a place that hasn’t only served as his refuge, but also his new home. And it’s because of this fact, he still believes that he’s undeserving of such kindness. </p><p> </p><p>Once he was able to collect himself, Father Siebren took a few more sniffles and wiped his puffy eyes with his thumb. </p><p> </p><p>“Feeling better, Father?” Sister Moira stared at the priest and gave him a soft smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes… Yes, I am!” Father Siebren answered while still sniffling. “… So… Shall we continue tending the garden?” </p><p> </p><p>Sister Moira chuckled at the priest’s question and stood up. “Of course! We still have a few more things to do to tidy up the place.”</p><p> </p><p>“There’s only a few more weeks till the next season, and I want to make sure that the flowers look their best before then. I also plan to plant new flowers for summer, so—<em> ACK! </em>” </p><p> </p><p>As Father Siebren searched for more weeds to pull out from the tulip bed, he felt something soft and fluffy between his hands. The warm sensation startled him, causing him to tip backwards. </p><p> </p><p>“Father, is everything alright!?” </p><p> </p><p>"There's… There's something in there!" Father Siebren pointed at the tulip bed with his finger trembling.</p><p> </p><p>Sister Moira's eyes looked towards the spot where the terrified priest was pointing at and noticed that something was disturbing the flowers. She slowly took a step forward before reaching down to whatever was rustling between the tulips.</p><p> </p><p>" There's nothing to fear here, Father." She carefully wrapped the creature in her arms and showed it to father Siebren. "It's just an adorable white <em> Oryctolagus cuniculus. </em>" She said with a smile. </p><p> </p><p>" An Ory… What now?" Father Siebren was still trying to shake the confusion away.</p><p> </p><p>" A white rabbit." The nun chuckled. She then cradled the mammal and started tickling its nose. </p><p>"A rabbit? IN MY GARDEN!?" With a frantic breath, Father Siebren leapt to his feet and inspected the state of his tulip bed. He was searching for any damage the rabbit may have created like torn stems, eaten tulip bulbs, or burrows. And while he was doing this, Sister Moira couldn’t help but watch him and laugh softly.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think she did any damage.” Sister Moira lifted the rabbit and snuggled her nose against the creature’s. “From where I'm standing, the entire garden looks like it’s in pristine condition.”</p><p> </p><p>“SHE!?” The nun’s words left Father Siebren confused. “Sister, don’t tell me you’re already attached to that thing? You’ve only held it for a few seconds!”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, don’t be so mean to her, Father.” Sister Moira cooed; her attention still stuck on the rabbit. “I mean, does this look like the face of a rabbit who’d harm your garden?” </p><p> </p><p>Sister Moira brought the rabbit in front of Father Siebren so he can get a better look at its face. Without showing any expression, the priest observed the creature that was presented to him. He stared at its twitching nose and whiskers before glaring at its red, beady eyes. Although the rabbit’s color was of an innocent shade of white, he knew that it was still capable of destroying. That’s why after inspecting the rabbit, he gave the nun a serious look and answered her dryly.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes…”</p><p> </p><p>The rabbit responded by hissing at the priest. It then started squirming out of the nun’s gentle hold, jumped out of her arms, and ran back into the tulip bed.</p><p> </p><p>“You scared her.” Sister Moira groaned. “Still, it’s quite interesting that there’d be a wild <em> Oryctolagus cuniculus </em>in the church grounds. She should be out in the fields.” </p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Father Siebren interjected. “An orycto what now?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Oryctolagus cuniculus. </em> It’s the rabbit’s scientific name.” Sister Moira answered. “The word <em> cuniculus </em>in their name means underground in Latin. It’s quite fitting since they love to make burrows.” She chuckled. “Before the 12th century, Ireland didn’t have any rabbits to speak of. But when the Normans introduced them to the country, they eventually multiplied and now you can find them in many areas on the island.”</p><p> </p><p>Amazed by the pieces of information she shared, Father Siebren looked at the nun with widened  eyes. “Wow… I didn’t know you knew so much about rabbits, Sister.”</p><p> </p><p>“Rabbits,  frogs, even the human body. I know a lot of things that have to do with science, Father.” She responded proudly. “What was once a childhood hobby of ransacking my father’s library and reading all of his science textbooks turned into a dream of becoming a doctor.” She slowly glanced towards the sky as a smile formed after reminiscing about her past. “But that dream has long gone.” She said with a deep sigh.</p><p> </p><p>The sister’s  words lingered in the priest’s mind as he focused on the nun’s closed smile. He could sense a bit of pain concealed behind her expression, and somehow felt the sorrow she was trying to hide. Father Siebren then exhaled a warm breath and walked towards the seminary.</p><p> </p><p>Seeing the priest’s movements from the corner of her eye quickly grabbed Sister Moira’s attention. “Father Siebren?” She asked softly.</p><p> </p><p>“Come with me,” The priest answered without looking back.</p><p> </p><p>“But, we aren’t finished with the garden--”</p><p> </p><p>“The garden can wait.” Father Siebren interrupted. “I want to show you something.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Abandoning their gardening duties did not sit well with Sister Moira. Nevertheless, she placed her trust in the priest,  so she knew that whatever he was going to show her will be worth it. Once inside the seminary, Sister Moira continued to follow the priest but kept a short distance away from him. She still didn't know her way around the building, even after the tour, so walking behind Father Siebren enabled her to follow in his footsteps and familiarize herself with the seminary's layout. It also allowed her to examine their surroundings and marvel at the antique furniture, as well as the holy pieces of art and decorations in the corridors.</p><p> </p><p>Since the seminary had a few residents, its floors were always left silent. The only things Sister Moira could hear were the sounds of the birds and insects that were singing their morning calls, as well as their footsteps that hit the cobblestone floors. It was peaceful, and Sister Moira cherished the fact that she can share that peace with the priest. All of a sudden, she heard Father Sieben hum a latin hymn. </p><p> </p><p>For a large man, Father Siebren had a soft and soothing voice that cascaded from where they were standing on the stairs heading to the second floor down to the first. His voice then bounced from the nearest walls and hit the astounded nun, sending a delightful shiver throughout her body. She then kept her eyes on the priest's strong and wide back, and smiled.</p><p> </p><p><em> For someone with his stature, he sure has a gentle soul. </em>She smiled as she imagined Father Siebren's face radiating with joy. </p><p> </p><p>However, being lost in her thoughts took her attention away from where she was walking. And when the priest stopped, she failed to take notice and accidentally bumped into him.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, I'm sorry Father Sieben… I was a little distracted." The nun straightened her black veil, which was left tilting to one side after their brisk collision.</p><p>
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</p><p>"No need to worry, Sister." He responded. "The seminary is filled with beautiful artworks of our faith. Some of them were donated by the other churches in the city while all the rest were handmade and given by the townsfolk. So I don't blame you for being distracted. Happens to me, as well." He said, chuckling in the end and producing the smile the nun envisioned in her thoughts.</p><p> </p><p>Sister Moira took a small step back. She was left astounded by his expression of joy. The nun then peered to the side to see where the priest had taken her, and was surprised to see a familiar double door entryway made of dark oak.</p><p> </p><p>"The library?"</p><p> </p><p>"I know that Father Baptiste gave you a tour of this place, but he can be a bit careless when performing his duties. Did he show you the inside of this room?"</p><p> </p><p>Sister Moira placed a finger on her chin and thought for a moment. Once she remembered the moment Father Baptiste mentioned the library, she shook her head. "He only pointed at the door and showed us to the next room."</p><p> </p><p>Upon receiving that information, Father Siebren released a heavy sigh. <em> That's so typical of him. </em>He then massaged the bridge of his nose by pinching it between his index finger and thumb before returning his focus back on the nun. "Well, I guess I'm lucky enough to show you another one of my favorite areas in the seminary." </p><p> </p><p>The priest grabbed the brass handles on both of the doors, and pushed them open. Once the doors revealed what was inside, the nun couldn't help but let her jaw drop in awe.</p><p> </p><p>"It's… INCREDIBLE!" When Sister Moira took a step inside, her eyes immediately wandered around the library. She was amazed by the number of bookcases and shelves that towered her, as well as the numerous books each one stored. She then walked towards one of oak tables and brushd her fingers against its dusty surface. "How old is this library?" She asked as she looked at the dust that stuck to her fingers.</p><p> </p><p>"... Just over six months." Father Sieben answered, looking to the side to hide the embarrassed look on his face.</p><p> </p><p>The nun's eyes widened in surprise. She didn't expect that answer. "It's fairly new!? Then why does it look so… Ancient?" </p><p> </p><p>"People rarely come to visit." The priest responded while entering the library. "We were hoping that adding a library would entice some of the townsfolk to take up good reading habits. Unfortunately, many of them don't seem interested. Since its construction, we've only had ten people come in, and all of them were only interested in picture books—which we don't have many of." He then looked around the room while approaching the nun. "Because of its lack of use, Father Harold doesn't see the point of having it cleaned often… In a way, it has become a useless space in the seminary."</p><p> </p><p>"Then why did you bring me here?" Sister Moira asked, raising an eyebrow and her head tilting to the side. "Surely you didn't tear us away from our gardening duties just to tell me that."</p><p> </p><p>"Of course not!" The priest exclaimed. "I brought you here because today, we'll be cleaning the library."</p><p> </p><p>"... You're joking…" She said dryly, looking at the priest with a miffed expression on her face.</p><p> </p><p>"I am not joking with you, Sister." He replied, beaming a smile at the nun. "My original plan was to start in this task in the afternoon. But now that you're here to help, we can start and finish early." Father Siebren was smiling with his eyes closed, and failed to see the nun's annoyance. "I'll go ahead and get the supplies in the broom closet." </p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren turned around and headed to the broom closet with a skip in his step. Sister Moira was left alone for only 3 minutes, but within that short span of time, she realized how much cleaning  needs to be done. Each bookcase was covered in layers of dust and had cobwebs on every shelf. Many of the old books' spines were falling apart while the plastic coverings of the newer series were glistening from the moisture that resulted from the library's poor ventilation.</p><p> </p><p>Sister Moira observed her surroundings once more, but this time, she saw everything under a bad light. "This will take us a few hours…" She said to herself.</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren returned with a pair of brooms, dustpans, and feather dusters. He also had a roll of garbage bags. "You start at the left side of the room while I start at the right." He said as he handed the nun half of the supplies. "Then we'll keep cleaning till we meet right back here at the center… Any questions?"</p><p> </p><p>Sister Moira wanted to speak up. She wanted to tell the priest that she'd rather return to the garden instead of doing this ridiculous chore. But she didn't want to break the priest's can-do attitude.</p><p> </p><p>So, she placed her disappointment aside and took one big breath. "That sounds like a good plan." She said, smiling at the priest.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Although cleaning the library is exhausting, it's another task Father Siebren loved to do. Aside from the garden, the library is a place that also brought him solace. The silence and peace that filled the room helped calm his thoughts when he felt the onset of a panic attack. The library also served as his place of refuge when things got too loud in the church. Because of this, he took pride in taking care of the library's maintenance—even if he didn't do it often. </p><p> </p><p>Having an extra pair of hands also placed him in a good mood. With Sister Moira by his side, he was confident that the library will be completely spick-and-span in no time.</p><p> </p><p>"Sister Moira?" Father Siebren hollered while feather dusting the books on his side.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes?" She hollered back.</p><p> </p><p>"How are we doing over there?"</p><p> </p><p>"Still okay." She answered back. "There are a lot of unread books over here." She said with a light chuckle. </p><p> </p><p>To ensure that work gets done, Father Siebren would check on the nun and ask about her progress every few minutes. It also helped him  make sure that the nun was still in the library because he sensed her dread when he handed her half of the cleaning supplies. </p><p> </p><p>"Sister?"</p><p> </p><p>"Still here, Father."</p><p> </p><p>As time passed, Father Siebren checked on the nun less frequently. He was fully confident that Sister Moira was dutifully doing her task. However, when he asked once more, he was met with silence. </p><p> </p><p>"Sister Moira?"</p><p> </p><p>… Nothing…</p><p> </p><p>"Sister?"</p><p> </p><p>… Still nothing…</p><p> </p><p>"Sister…" When he didn't get an answer after the third time he stopped sweeping and sighed. <em> Oh dear… </em>Father Siebren dropped the task he was doing to search for her.</p><p> </p><p>The library was of medium size, so it wouldn't take long to find her. Father Siebren was also nearly 8 feet tall, which meant he had more than enough height to see over the shorter bookshelves. He scanned the entire left side of the library, and kept an eye out for Sister Moira's svelte frame and red hair that poked out of her bandeau. And after 10 minutes of searching, he found her sitting on the floor with her back against the wall and reading a pile of books set before her.</p><p> </p><p><em> Thank goodness she's still here. </em>Father Siebren thought as he felt the weight of worry lift from his shoulders. He then cleared his throat before speaking. "Hello, Sister."</p><p> </p><p>Hearing Father Siebren's stern voice startled the nun, causing her to quickly shut the book she was reading close. "Oh, he- hello Father." She stuttered. "I... I was just… you see—"</p><p> </p><p>Father Sieben raised his hand and put on a calm smile. "It's alright to take a break." He lowered his hand and approached her. "I just wanted to make sure that you didn't run off and abandon your responsibilities." He chuckled. "May I?" He said, gesturing at the space next to the nun.</p><p> </p><p>Sister Moira nodded.</p><p> </p><p>As the priest sat down on the floor, he and Sister Moira heard his joints creak. His body, though healthy, was old, so movements that required him to contort caused his legs to ache.</p><p> </p><p>"Are you okay, Father?" Sister Moira asked with genuine concern.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm fine. I was just standing for far too long." He responded. "That, and I'm also old." He laughed at his own state. "So… I don't mean to pry, but what are you reading?" He asked as he glanced at the book the nun was holding tightly in her arms. </p><p> </p><p>"Oh… It's just one of the unopened science books I found in this section. It touches upon the state of the human condition and behavior during the time before the war. Quite a fascinating world we used to live in before things went under." When she realized what the topic of her conversation was about, Sister Moira bit her lip and apologized profusely. </p><p> </p><p>"There's no need to apologize, Sister. My head is in a good place right now." He then examined the other books that were scattered by her feet. "But it looks like that's not the Only book that caught your eye." He said, reaching for the book that was closest to him.</p><p> </p><p>"Your collections of science books and articles are incredible!" Sister Moira's eyes gleamed with pure joy. "I just couldn't help myself… I just had to read them all."</p><p>
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</p><p>"Well, I'm glad that the library has gained a new visitor." He then rested his back on the wall and looked to the ceiling. "I knew you'd like this place."</p><p>
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</p><p>"... You knew?" Sister Moira turned to him. She had a curious look on her face and an eyebrow raised.</p><p> </p><p>"Sister Agnes told me a little about yourself. She said you had no intentions of becoming a nun, and as an act of rebellion, you almost burned the church in Dublin down."</p><p> </p><p>Sister Moira grunted under her nose. "She could've left that part out." She then joined the priest in resting her back against the wall and looking at the ceiling.</p><p> </p><p>"And then you told me earlier that you loved to rummage through your father's science books." Father Siebren continued. "And that habit of yours made you want to become a doctor.  So, it made sense to bring you here to bring back some happy memories."</p><p> </p><p>"You are quite observant, Father. I must applaud you." Sister Moira exclaimed. She 5hen rested her back on the wall and started  reminiscing about her younger years. "Ever since I was a little girl, I so wanted to become a woman of science. I had dreams of getting a doctorate degree, and becoming the first female doctor in my family. I wanted to help people, and heal them from their pains!" She said with her eyes lit with the passion of her childhood aspirations. However,  the light that shimmered in her red and blue orbs faded. "… But my father had other plans."</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren opened his mouth slightly, but since his mind couldn't find the appropriate response, he quickly shut it. He then observed Sister Moira's body language. She held herself close to keep her emotions from surging out. She kept her eyes downcast because bringing up the memory of her father crushing her dream made her tear up. The priest had to say something to help her get out of her sorrow.</p><p> </p><p>"I don't mean to pry, Sister. But is your father a conservative man?" </p><p> </p><p>"Very." She quickly answered as she wiped away the tears that were welling in her eyes. "You'd think that since women have dominated the workforce during the war, he'd be more accepting to the idea… But I guess I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up."</p><p> </p><p>"I see…" Father Siebren regretted asking about her father for it may have reopened past wounds. He needed to change the topic fast. "Sister Moira, if it was never your intention to become a nun… Then why did you stay?" </p><p> </p><p>The priest's question took the nun by surprise.</p><p> </p><p>"Surely the religious order would let you go, especially if your heart isn't set on becoming a nun."</p><p> </p><p>Sister Moira looked at Father Siebren with wide eyes. No one has ever asked her that question before, and it astonished her that the first person who was interested in her decision was a priest. Nevertheless, his curiosity produced a gentle smile on her face. </p><p> </p><p>"Because I realized I can heal people in a different way." She answered. "Doctors treat people's physical and mental pains… But members of the religious community heal people's spiritual pains. And I think I can make more of an impact in people's lives if I help them find their way back to the holy light's warm embrace."</p><p> </p><p>The nun's answer left Father Siebren stunned. He never knew that the nun was imbued by God's glory so much that she found peace in her current circumstance. </p><p> </p><p>"The Lord sure does work in mysterious ways." He said to himself.</p><p> </p><p>"Pardon?"</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, nothing." The priest then slowly stood up and  began to walk away. "I'll let you enjoy the quiet and read in peace." </p><p> </p><p>"But Father Siebren," Sister Moira exclaimed.  "what about our tasks? We still have to finish tending the garden  and I haven't completely cleaned my side of the library."</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren stopped and turned to look at the nun."I know. But I also know that you'll finish your task before lunchtime." He said. "I'll take care of the garden. I'm just glad to know that I can finally share the joy the library gives me with someone like you."</p><p> </p><p>The warmth in the priest's voice and expression made Sister Moira's cheeks turn a light shade of pink. "Th- thank you, Father… And thank you for listening, even if it was just for a while."</p><p> </p><p>The priest then gave the nun a small bow before continuing to walk away. And the moment his back was turned, Sister Moira returned to the page she was reading and continued digesting the book's contents with a big smile on her face.</p><p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello dear Readers,</p><p>I hope you are all doing well. We're still living in a time during a pandemic, but I hope that you're doing what you can to take care of yourselves and staying sane. I apologize for not uploading much last month. Feb was a horrible month for me and it was difficult to write. But I hope this long chapter can make up for it. I've also added illustrations since I'm trying something new.</p><p>Speaking of which, the following chapters may take time again. I'm trying something new and I want to include an illustration in all of them. It's a new way for me to explore my other hobbies. I hope you understand.</p><p>Thank you again for your support and understanding. You are all awesome and amazing people. I love you all.</p><p>Regards,</p><p>Biak911</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> [Franz Schubert - Sonata for Arpeggione and Piano in A minor, D. 821: II. Adagio] </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Even though the conversation they had in the library was brief, it left a significant impact on Father Siebren. The time he spent listening to a shred of Sister Moira's personal life made him realize that the nun was nothing but genuine. Her willingness to open up to him and share her experience on how she answered God's call reinvigorated his faith in the Almighty Father. And that was enough for him to convince himself that he had passed God's test.</p><p>
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</p><p>Sister Moira also benefited from spending most of that day with the priest. When she saw him breakdown, she realized that although Father Siebren carried a burly build, the effects of the war had scarred a part of him that shook his entire being with fear, sadness, pain, and regret. It was difficult to see him trembling in a panic. And yet, she was left in awe that the priest had enough strength and the will to serve the Lord and the people in Tralee. She was right to think that Father Siebren had a certain type of kindness that flickered in his blue-gray eyes, and a welcoming warmth that was always present in his old, calloused hands. And it's because of the priest's genuine personality that she was able to return at ease whenever she was near him.</p><p>
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</p><p>It was a miracle that both the nun and priest were able to patch their relationship in a short amount of time, and yet the timing couldn't have been more perfect. Because the most challenging task they'll face together was coming up: feeding the poor and homeless people in town.</p><p>
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</p><p>‐‐‐</p><p>
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</p><p>"Alright, that's all of it." Father Baptiste huffed as he placed a heavy pot of beef stew at the back of Mr. Murphy's truck. He then dusted his hands together and inspected the contents on the vehicle's bed. "Two pots of stew, a dozen loaves of bread, and five jugs of water. I think that's more than enough! Wouldn't you agree, Father Liam?" He looked to the silent priest and waited for a response.</p><p>
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</p><p>Father Liam gave him a smile and nodded.</p><p>
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</p><p>"Thank you, Father Baptiste, for your help." Father Siebren placed a hand on his fellow priest's shoulder. "Sister Moira and I can take it from here."</p><p>
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</p><p>On this particular day, Tralee was blessed with a peaceful sunny morning. There was a right amount of white clouds that spread across the blue canvas sky, creating pockets of shade below that interlaced with the sun's golden rays. The wind was cool and soft,  and it carried the scent of the fragrant flowers that surrounded the church compound. The birds were singing their morning songs, and the bees buzzed as they searched for sweet nectar. Everything was perfect, and Father Siebren couldn't hide the smile on his face when he knew that this was the day when he was ready to accept his new role in the church.</p><p>
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</p><p>"Is everything alright, Father Siebren?" Father Baptiste asked, looking at his fellow priest curiously. "I don't mean to be rude, but… I have never seen you so eager to head out to town before."</p><p>
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</p><p>Father Siebren was about to head towards the passenger side of the truck when Father Baptiste's question stopped him in his tracks. "I'm quite alright, Father Baptiste." He responded with a cheery tone. "In fact, I've never felt this excited in years!" The tall priest couldn't help but shake his fists as he couldn't contain the joy that was rushing through his veins.</p><p>
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</p><p>Father Baptiste held his friend's hands to calm his exhilaration. "Don't push yourself too hard now, Father." He chuckled. "It's best you save all that energy when you meet the townsfolk."</p><p>
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</p><p>"Oh… R-right!" Father Siebren began taking deep breaths and waited for his heartbeat to return to a healthy pace. </p><p>
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</p><p>While Father Siebren was calming himself down,  Father Baptiste spoke, "Father, I need to be honest… I thought that you'd panic and lock yourself in your room for several weeks when Father Harold handed you your new responsibility." He then turned his head toward Mr. Murphy's truck to hide the shame in his eyes. "But I guess I judged you too early and never thought that you could muster up the courage to take this new path head-on."</p><p>
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</p><p>Father Siebren was surprised by his fellow priest's words and stared at him with eyes wide open. It took him a few moments to respond, but when he found the right words to say, all he could do was release a light chuckle. "You’re not wrong to think that, Father Baptiste." He said. "This responsibility has shrouded my mind with doubt, so I take no offense in what you said."</p><p>
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</p><p>Father Baptiste returned his gaze towards his fellow priest's kind expression.</p><p>
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</p><p>"But," Father Siebren continued, "after realizing how well you and the people in Tralee have treated me over the years,  I know that everything is going to be alright."</p><p>
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</p><p>Seeing Father Siebren reach a state of peace in such a short amount of time amazed Father Baptiste. In the 3 years he knew him, it would normally take Father Siebren at least a week to recover from his anxiety attacks. Sometimes it would take longer if his episodes were intense.  So it piqued his interest to know what helped Father Siebren recover so quickly. However,  when he was just about to ask him, he was suddenly interrupted by Sister Moira. </p><p>
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</p><p>"Father  Siebren!" The red-haired nun hollered to him as she came running down to the driveway. When she reached the two priests, she bent down and clutched her knees. "Sorry for being late." She said panting. "I forgot to grab some of my things. I swore I placed all of the necessary items in my bag."</p><p>
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</p><p>"It's alright, Sister." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "We don't have to leave right this instant. Father Liam wants to speak with you before we leave anyway, so take a few moments to catch your breath, alright?" </p><p>
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</p><p>"Thank you, Father." Sister Moira took a deep breath as she stood up straight. She rested a hand on her chest and steadied her breathing. Once she felt better, she shot a smile and did a small bow in front of the two priests in front of her before approaching Father Liam.</p><p>
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</p><p>Father Baptiste observed Sister Moira's skip in her step then turned to his fellow priest who was smiling ear to ear. He would shift his attention back and forth to these two people until he placed himself in front of Father Siebren. "So… I'm guessing you've patched things up with the Sister?"</p><p>
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</p><p>Father Siebren let out a chortle from his nose. "Yes, we have." He said smiling; reaching into his pocket and pulling out his pocket watch.</p><p>
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</p><p>"That's quite… An intriguing accomplishment." Father Baptiste rubbed his bearded chin.</p><p>
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</p><p>"Intriguing? What makes it so intriguing?" Father Siebren asked as he tinkered his pocket watch. </p><p>
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</p><p>"A few days ago, Father Harold and I noticed that the Sister's presence made you feel uncomfortable. But now it's as if you've been good friends for quite some time because you feel so at ease being around her now. You even managed to touch her shoulder!"</p><p>
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</p><p>When Father Siebren finished adjusting his pocket watch, he placed the timekeeper back in his pocket and released a light sigh. "I too am astonished with myself. But spending these past few days with Sister Moira made me appreciate her company."</p><p>
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</p><p>Father Baptiste examined the big smile that was still plastered on Father Siebren's face.  And when he confirmed that the feelings of his fellow priest were honest and pure, he too couldn't help but produce a smile. "I'm still surprised that you were able to overcome your anxiety,  Father. But I'm glad to see you happy and at peace." He then looked to the heavens above. "God sure does work in mysterious ways."</p><p>
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</p><p>"He sure does…"</p><p>
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</p><p>---</p><p>
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</p><p>The drive to Tralee's town square was less bumpy than what Father Siebren remembered. Then again, the last time he visited the town was half a year ago, so maybe the road had been repaired since then. But the comfortable ride also made him realize another thing. With the road free from potholes, bumps, and other damage, it meant travel time got shorter. Instead of the hour and a half drive he was so used to, the priest estimated that it would now take them only 45 minutes to reach their destination. And as Mr. Murphy's truck passed several markers that indicated that they were nearing the town square, Father Siebren increasingly got nervous. He was staring blankly at the road ahead, trying to free his mind of worry. He balled his shaking hands into fists and hoped that the sweat from his palms would drip to his cassock and dry. The confidence he built up for the past couple of days was slowly breaking away. And Sister Moira caught on to his distress when she felt the priest tense up.</p><p>
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</p><p>She then gently laid a hand on Father Siebren's right fist. "You'll be fine, Father." She whispered so as not to disturb old Mr. Murphy who was sitting behind the wheel to her right. "The people here already love you, so you'll do great." She said in a soft, comforting tone. "But if things start to overwhelm you, you can always come to me for help."</p><p>
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</p><p>Giving Father Siebren the reassurance that he can find safety in the nun's presence helped calm some of his nerves. So although there was a bit of worry still lingering in the back of his mind, he looked at the nun’s kind expression and thanked her with a smile.</p><p>
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</p><p>When they arrived at their destination, Mr. Murphy safely stopped his truck in front of the town's community center. The two-story building's external walls were covered in vines and its slate shingle roof wasn't shy in hiding its cracks. The white paint on the cement pillars that held the arch above the center's entryway had weathered and peeled away. But among all of the building's old features, its windows seemed to be the only things intact. And yet the panes weren't thick enough to muffle the sounds coming from the inside. So when Father Siebren stepped out of the truck, he was quickly consumed by nervousness when he heard the laughter of the townsfolk.</p><p>
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</p><p>"Father Siebren?" Mr. Murphy—a thin, lanky old man with silver thin hair—tapped on the priest's shoulder with his boney finger to try to get his attention. </p><p>
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</p><p>But Father Siebren didn't reply. He was too preoccupied imagining could-be scenarios should he mess up his task today.</p><p>
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</p><p>"Father?" Mr. Murphy called once more. Still, no response. </p><p>
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</p><p>"Uhm, Mr. Murphy?" Sister Moira grabbed the old man's attention. "If you don't mind, I need help unloading all the things at the back of the truck." She said, cocking her head towards the truck bed. "I can carry the pots of stew, and you can—"</p><p>
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</p><p>Before Moira could finish her sentence, Mr. Murphy raised a hand in front of her. "No worries, Sister Moira. I can handle everything. " He said. "I might be old, but I'm as strong as two bulls! At least, that's what Mrs. Murphy tells me." He chuckled for a moment.  He then shifted his attention to the priest; his eyes filled with concern. "Just… Take care of him alright? He hasn't been back here for a while, and it's his first time without Father Harold's aid."</p><p>
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</p><p>Sister Moira could sense the old man's worry in every word. So to help keep his mind at ease, she made him a promise. "Don't worry, Mr. Murphy.  I'll make sure that I'll help keep Father safe. You can count on me." She said, giving him a reassuring nod.</p><p>
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</p><p>While Mr. Murphy was unloading the cargo, Sister Moira stood a safe distance beside Father Siebren. She wanted to give him some space to calm himself down and realign with his center. Even after Mr. Murphy had unloaded all the items on the truck bed and bid Sister Moira a pleasant goodbye before driving back to the church, the nun gave the priest a few more seconds alone before approaching him.</p><p>
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</p><p>"Father," Sister Moira whispered in his ear. "we should get going. The people inside are waiting."</p><p>
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</p><p>Suddenly, Father Siebren felt the nun's slender arm wrap around his burly right arm, causing him to break free from the worry that was pulling him deeper into his own bleak thoughts. Her touch was gentle and warm, which was a welcoming sensation that lulled the rush of panic that coursed through his nerves. He gazed upon Sister Moira's face and found solace in her comforting smile. But the moment he realized that they were sharing a somewhat intimate hold, the color of his face flushed red and he immediately pulled himself away.</p><p>
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</p><p>Father Siebren cleared his throat and loosened the collar of his cassock. "R- right… Th- then shall we… uhmmm..." The priest continued to play with his collar as he frantically tried to release some of the heat that was accumulating under his clothing.</p><p>
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</p><p>"I- I'm sorry, Father. I didn't mean to—"</p><p>
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</p><p>"There's no harm done, Sister." He said, panting between each word. "I just… didn't expect it that's all."</p><p>
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</p><p>When the priest reassured her that he was fine, Sister Moira did her best to hide a giggle behind her hand. She was a bit amused to see the priest all flustered.</p><p>
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</p><p>All of a sudden, the large, wooden door to the community center swung open, and out came a woman who was in her late 50s. She wore a pale green floral dress underneath a cream-colored Aran sweater. Her shoes—which were a pair of dark brown kiltie loafers—clicked against the short stoney path that led to the center.  Her light brown hair, which was kept in a messy bun, bounced as she skipped towards the priest and the nun. Once she was standing in front of the holy individuals, she immediately gave them a huge smile.</p><p>
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</p><p>"Father Siebren!" She said in a giddy tune. "It's quite a shock to see you here, but I'm happily surprised that you came. The people inside will be ecstatic to see you! And of course,  you as well,  Sister!"</p><p>
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</p><p>"Kayleigh, it's been so long my dear friend" Father Siebren clasped the old woman's right hand and shook it. "I apologize for not visiting earlier. I wasn't at my best during winter, so Father Harold advised me to stay in the entire season." </p><p>
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</p><p>"Oh, no need to say you’re sorry, Father.  We don't want you to get sick now, so following Father Harold's advice was the right call… Speaking of which," Kayleigh looked around as if she was expecting another person to join the group. "Where is Father Harold? He's supposed to be heading today's lunch."</p><p>
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</p><p>"A- about that…" Father Siebren responded with a shaky voice. "I can tell you everything once we get inside."</p><p>
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</p><p>"Sure thing, Father. Let me just call my boys to help you out." The old woman turned towards the entrance of the community center and hollered, "SEAN, NIALL! COME HERE AND HELP THESE GOOD PEOPLE BRING IN THE STUFF, YEAH?"</p><p>
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</p><p>---</p><p>
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</p><p>Once inside the community center, Father Siebren was surprised to receive a joyous greeting from the townsfolk. Because when Kayleigh announced their arrival,  everyone paused for a moment to give him a warm smile.</p><p>
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</p><p>"Is that Father Siebren? " A  man asked. His voice was so loud that his echo filled the main hall.</p><p>
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</p><p>"Yes,  yes it is!" A woman exclaimed.</p><p>
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</p><p>Suddenly, everyone in the hall gathered around the priest and formed a small crowd that blocked his path to his exit. Father Siebren was both delighted and surprised to see that the people Tralee were excited to see him. And the inexplicable feeling of joy that came out from this helped repress his typical anxieties that would flare up when exposed to this many people at any given time. Father Siebren wanted to share this small triumph with the nun. But when he turned to look at her, she was nowhere to be found.</p><p>
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</p><p><em> Sister Moira?  </em>Father Siebren looked at his surroundings and searched for the red-haired nun. One might think that his height would help him in this situation, but with everyone in the crowd trying to get his attention, it was difficult for him to concentrate. Thus, he closed his eyes and did his best to drown out the voices of the people before him. He then slowly envisioned Sister Moira's physical appearance in his mind. Her svelte frame, her red and blue colored eyes, her tender smile that he came to like. Once the figure of the nun was clear, he opened his eyes and used the image in his head to help him focus and find Sister Moira. Sure enough, he found her sitting at one of the tables located at the far right of the hall. And sitting across her was Rory who had a bright smile across his face.</p><p>
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</p><p>Father Siebren was supposed to feel happy seeing the nun and Rory getting along. But as he noticed that Rory was becoming more chummy with Sister Moira, his happiness began to be shrouded by envy. He couldn't understand how Rory can look and feel more comfortable speaking with the Sister. </p><p>
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</p><p><em> Sure, they might have more things in common since they're both Irish. But I've known Rory longer than she has… Why does she know more about his life than I!? </em>He thought. </p><p>
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</p><p>Taming the jealousy that made his blood boil was proving to be difficult. So to avoid letting his jealousy overcome him, he averted his eyes and placed his concentration back on the crowd. </p><p>
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</p><p>"Father Siebren," A little  girl about the age of seven came running to the priest with her arms reaching out to him. "it’s good to see you again!"</p><p>
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</p><p>"Cara!" Father Siebren caught the little girl in his arms and lifted her up. "It's so good to see you! My, you've grown so much since I saw you last."</p><p>
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</p><p>In turn, the little girl wrapped her arms around the priest and gave him a tight hug. "I missed you, Father." She said as she buried her face in his nape. "Me and the other kids were just talking about you and how much we miss you reading to us." She then looked at Father Siebren with a melancholic smile. "Please tell me you'll stay longer this time, so you can read to us again ."</p><p>
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</p><p>"Well, Cara. I have some news." Father Siebren said while gently placing Cara down. "I have news for all of you actually."</p><p>
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</p><p>When the priest brought this up, a few people in the crowd shushed the others in order for them to hear him clearly. Eventually,  they all fell silent and waited for Father Siebren to share the news with bated breath.</p><p>
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</p><p>Father Siebren could sense the anticipation in their eyes. He needed a few moments to formulate the correct way to tell the townsfolk about his new position.  So to buy himself some time, he cleared his throat and adjusted his collar a couple of times. But he couldn't keep the crowd waiting. The people were hungry, after all.</p><p>
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</p><p>"By now all of you are wondering where Father Harold is." Father Siebren started. "I know that Father Harold was supposed to take care of today's lunch, but he has an urgent mission to attend to."</p><p>
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</p><p>The people started whispering to each other after hearing this piece of information. </p><p>
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</p><p>"Bishop Len Brennan had asked him to oversee the parish in Craggy Island." The priest continued. "It seems that the priests stationed there are in need of Father Harold's helping hand." </p><p>
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</p><p>The crowd's whispers became louder.</p><p>
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</p><p>"Wait!" A man suddenly spoke up. "Then that means Father Harold will leave Tralee?"</p><p>
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</p><p>"Yes." Father Siebren answered.</p><p>
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</p><p>"When?" A person in the crowd asked.</p><p>
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</p><p>"Well, we're  still not sure." Father Siebren responded with a noticeable uneasiness in his voice.  "All we know is that he can be called at any moment and—"</p><p>
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</p><p>"So, who'll be taking care of our church?"</p><p>
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</p><p>"Who'll handle all the religious events this year?"</p><p>
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</p><p>"Who'll officiate our marriages?"</p><p>
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</p><p>The townsfolk's concerns about having no one to lead their church started to create an ominous tension in the room. The people of Tralee are a religious bunch, and it deeply bothered them that their church could be left empty for an insurmountable amount of time. </p><p>
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</p><p>This was Father Siebren's best chance to help put the people's minds at ease. So, he took a deep breath and with a commanding voice he said, "I will!"</p><p>
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</p><p>The crowd suddenly became silent; their eyes glued to the confident priest.</p><p>
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</p><p>"Father Harold passed his Tralee church responsibilities to me—but only until he returns from his mission." </p><p>
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</p><p>Father Siebren looked at the crowd and couldn't decipher whether their faces expressed joy or disappointment. Even Rory was left confused. </p><p>
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</p><p>The priest's heart started pounding against his rib cage. The people's unreadable expressions made him think that his delivery was uncouth. He quickly turned to Sister Moira to see whether sharing this bit of news was a mistake.  But he was surprised to see the nun smiling at him.</p><p>
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</p><p>"You'll be fine..." She mouthed before giving him a reassuring nod.</p><p>
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</p><p>Her support was all he needed to regain his confidence. The priest returned his attention to the crowd.</p><p>
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</p><p>"I… I am still unsure as to why Father Harold chose me." Father Siebren clasped his hands together and rested them on his lap. "I'm not Irish and I don't think my three years being here is enough experience to warrant me this position." He then looked at his hands and saw them trembling from his nervousness. </p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>At this moment, he knew he needed to be strong not only for himself but for the people in Tralee as well. He needed to show them that even though he's not from Ireland… Even though he's haunted by his condition… He's capable of taking care of their beloved church.</p><p>
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</p><p>He unclasped his hands and looked at the crowd with his eyes gleaming with the fire of his determination. "But do know this. I love this community and I love our church. You have all welcomed me with open arms and have accepted me as one of your own. Serving you has rekindled my passion for my vocation. That's why I'll do everything in my power to serve our Lord and uphold everything our church stands for. I may not have the same charm as Father Harold, but I hope my dedication to helping this community is enough to give you comfort and peace of mind."</p><p>
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</p><p>Father Siebren's speech might have been short, but each of his words came from his heart. The people of Tralee have treated him with so much kindness, he couldn't bear being an inadequate leader for their church. </p><p>
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</p><p>After he had finished his speech, the crowd stayed silent. However, once the people felt the honesty in his words, their faces slowly expressed the familiar features of joy. </p><p>
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</p><p>"Well, thank goodness Father Harold left someone trustworthy in charge of our church." A man spoke, breaking the unnerving silence in the room.</p><p>
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</p><p>"Yeap, Tralee's church is in great hands!" Another added, causing everyone to let out a relieved laughter.</p><p>
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</p><p>Receiving a positive response from the people made Father Siebren’s heart swell. He couldn't believe that the townsfolk had placed their trust in him even before telling them about the news. He was immediately filled with the warmth of happiness, and he couldn't hold back his tears when the people continued to share their excitement for his leadership. </p><p>
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</p><p>"Thank you, everyone. " He said as he wiped the tears from his eyes. "Now, let's all gather for lunch.  I'm  sure you're all hungry."</p><p>
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</p><p>‐‐‐</p><p>
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</p><p>Lunch service usually lasted for an hour and a half, but since Father Siebren shared his news, the service needed to be extended. People would take their time asking the priest questions as he'd serve them a hearty bowl of stew and Father Siebren would gladly answer each of them with such fervor that the line for food would stall every few minutes. Eventually, Kayleigh had to intervene and lend a helping hand to get the line moving. Once everyone got their share, Father Siebren took a step back and observed the townsfolk.</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>Everyone was seated at a table surrounded by friends and family. Some were telling others about their week while many were still clanging their spoons against their bowls, trying to get every morsel of their lunch. <em> Everything is going great, so far. </em>Father Siebren thought. But when he looked at the table where Rory was seated, his cheery smile was replaced with a look of empathy when he noticed his friend still sitting alone and staring blankly at a wall. </p><p>
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</p><p>"That was a good speech, Father." Sister Moira said as she approached him. She was holding a cup of coffee in each hand and handed one to the priest. </p><p>
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</p><p>"Hmmm?" At first, Father Siebren didn't notice the nun's presence; he was too focused on Rory's gloomy disposition. But when the scent of caffeine hit him, he quickly turned his attention to the nun. "Oh! T- thank you." He stuttered as he reached for the coffee that was being offered to him.</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>Sister Moira stood next to Father Siebren and looked in the same direction the priest was staring at. "Go talk to him." She whispered.  "I can sense Rory needs a friend right about now."</p><p>
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</p><p>"Then you should go talk to him." Father Siebren responded with a hint of spite in his tone. "I think he'll feel more comfortable talking to you."</p><p>
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</p><p>"Is that jealousy I sense, Father?" Sister Moira jested by curling the last word in that sentence. "I didn't think you were the type."</p><p>
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</p><p>Her response caused Father Siebren to spit out a bit of his coffee. "N- no, Sister! I didn't mean… I'm not—"</p><p>
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</p><p>"Rory specifically requested for you." She said with a serious look on her face.  "Something seems to be bothering him, especially after you've shared the news."</p><p>
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</p><p>"He didn’t tell you?"</p><p>
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</p><p>"...No."</p><p>
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</p><p>Father Siebren raised his head towards Rory and looked at his friend with concern. "Alright, I'll talk to him."</p><p>
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</p><p>---</p><p>
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</p><p>Rory hasn't moved from the table ever since Father Siebren and Sister Moira had arrived in the community center. He was sitting uncomfortably on the wooden chair while he rested his hands on the table. He placed his full attention on his thumbs, which he twiddled around. And as his mind went into a blank, he couldn’t help but incoherently mumble several words.</p><p>
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</p><p>"Hello, Rory." Father Siebren walked towards the empty chair that was opposite to Rory and gave his friend a smile. "May I?" He said, gesturing at the seat.</p><p>
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</p><p>The priest's friendly voice somehow broke Rory out of his gaze. He looked at the Father and gave him a trembling nod.</p><p>
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</p><p>"Thank you." Father Siebren pulled out the chair and sat down. He then placed his coffee in front of him and clasped his hands together on the table.</p><p>
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</p><p>The two men allowed themselves to take a few minutes to observe each other in silence. The moment he sat down, Father Siebren noticed that Rory glanced to the side and hasn't looked at him straight in the eye ever since. It reminded him the first time he met Rory during his first few weeks of handling confessions. So, like what he did back then, he let Rory get comfortable around him before he said anything.</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>Eventually, Rory turned his head back towards the priest and looked at him with sorrowful eyes.</p><p>
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</p><p>"So, how has your week been, Rory?" Father Siebren spoke in a hushed tone.</p><p>
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</p><p>"B… B- better… I…I" Rory stumbled with his words. He was doing his best to get his thoughts across, but the emotions churning in his chest prevented his words from coming out clearly.</p><p>
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</p><p>Father Siebren noticed that ripples started to form in his coffee. Then, he felt the entire wooden table shake. He looked to the side and saw Rory's left leg trembling. Something was bothering his friend deeply, and he couldn't help but think that his presence was causing Rory's discomfort.</p><p>
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</p><p>"Are you sure you want to talk, Rory?" Father Siebren spoke; his face full of worry. "Because I can always come back later and—"</p><p>
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</p><p>"No! Stay!" Rory suddenly barked; his voice halted the priest from standing up from his seat. "It's just…" He bit down on his lower lip to hold back the words that were fueled by his anger. "How could you, Father!?" He said, banging his left fist on the table.</p><p>
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</p><p>Father Siebren jolted in his seat; he was shocked by Rory's actions. He looked at his friend and saw the frustration rumple his face. Rory's cheeks reddened and his eyes were welling up in tears. The priest knew this look all too well as he had seen it plenty of times whenever Rory visited the church during his drunken stupors. As such, he needed to face his friend with a calm voice and a level head. He did not want to provoke him because he knew Rory was capable of causing a horrible scene. The people's eyes were already locked on them, observing their conversation. </p><p>
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</p><p>"Rory…" Father Siebren exhaled lightly. "May you shed a bit of light on that subject?  I'd like to better understand what's causing your distress, so I can help you reach a state of calm."</p><p>
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</p><p>"Calm…? Calm!? I AM CALM!?" Rory's voice filled the hall and sent a cold chill up in the people's spines. </p><p>
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</p><p>"Rory… Please…"</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>When Father Siebren pleaded to him, Rory stared into the priest’s eyes and shot him a look that encompassed the fury that was heating his chest. He was hoping that his seething rage would frighten the priest. But the longer he looked, he could only see the disappointment in Father Siebren's blue-grey eyes and his unacceptable behavior reflecting at him. He then examined the hall and felt the tension of everyone's eyes on him.</p><p>
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</p><p>"I… I'm sorry, Father.  I don't know what came over me… l—"</p><p>
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</p><p>"It's alright, Rory." Father Siebren raised his hand before his friend to keep his attention on him. "Let's just calm down and start over, okay?"</p><p>
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</p><p>It took Rory a whole 10 minutes to dissipate his pent-up anger, and during those 10 minutes,  the townsfolk continued to keep their eyes on Rory. But when Rory stopped fidgeting in his seat and steadied his breath, they went on like nothing happened. And this confused Father Siebren immensely.</p><p>
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</p><p>"S- so, Rory," Father Siebren said with a stumbling start to shake off his confusion. "Tell me, what's the matter? You've been acting strange even before lunch was served."</p><p>
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</p><p>Rory started tapping on the table's surface with his finger. "It's just… Your news surprised me, that's all. I'm happy for you, I really am."</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>Father Siebren caught the sarcasm in Rory's voice and released a tired breath through his nose. "Oh, really? " The priest shifted in his seat before crossing his arms and giving his friend a stern look. "I don't think you're telling me the truth. Because if you really are, you wouldn't have acted that way."</p><p>
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</p><p>Rory fell silent and slumped further into his seat. He started twiddling with his thumbs again.</p><p>
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</p><p>"... Be honest with me, Rory. " Father leaned in a bit closer to get his friend's full attention.  "You know I want to help. But I can't do anything if you won't tell me what's really bothering you."</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Rory raised his head and met the priest's kind gaze. The twinkle in the priest's blue-gray eyes often managed to bring Rory into a state of peace. But sometimes it can peel away the layers of his pride and hard-headedness to reveal his guilt.</p><p>
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</p><p>"It's just… Unfair, Father." Rory’s strong front finally broke. “Please believe me when I say that I’m truly happy that you’re taking care of our church… But you must also understand that… I am afraid of losing you.”</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>“Losing me?” Father Siebren said, raising an eyebrow. “Rory, I won’t be going anywhere. I’ll still be serving in the church.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“And that gives me great comfort, but…” Rory released an exasperated breath and fixed his sitting position. “With you handling all of Father Harold’s duties, you won’t have enough time to fit me into your busy schedule.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Father Siebren’s heart swelled. He never thought Rory valued their time together that much. The priest always had difficulty reading Rory’s emotions and body language since he was often drunk. Recalling their past sessions made him realize that he was approaching Rory and his situation the wrong way. Which is why he vowed to make time to speak to Rory and understand him better even though he knew that his new responsibilities will make it difficult.</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>“I’m sorry, Rory. I had no idea that you felt this way.“ He then placed his hands on the table with his palms facing the ceiling and reached out to him. “But there’s nothing to fear. I assure you that I will keep our schedule and continue meeting up with you. Maybe this time around, I could visit you more frequently.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Rory’s eyes lit up and raised his head. “Do… Do you mean it?” He said with his voice cracking.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Of course!” The priest then held his friend’s hands and squeezed them tightly. “You are a dear, friend Rory. And I’d like to take care of our friendship no matter what.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Rory’s eyes were filled with tears and softly held the priest by the wrist. “That means a lot, Father. Thank you!”</p><p>
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</p><p>It took a few minutes for Father Siebren to help Rory collect himself. But once Rory’s tears have been wiped away and his mind clear of uncertainty, he and the priest spent the next few hours catching up.</p><p> </p><p>                                                                                                                                                                             </p><p>---</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Father Siebren was so invested in Rory and his well-being that he didn’t notice the time. It was only when Sister Moira tapped his shoulder that he realized he spent the entire day talking with Rory. He excused himself and reassured Rory that they’ll meet again soon. He then apologized to the rest of the townsfolk for forgetting about the time. He was ready to accept the backlash for his carelessness. Nevertheless, the people of Tralee quickly forgave him. The reason behind this was because Sister Moira was there and was more than willing to take over his tasks.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“Thank you for helping me out back there.” Father Siebren whispered, leaning closer to Sister Moira. “I was enjoying my time with Rory too much.” He chuckled. “The children loved your storytelling session, by the way. Cara said she adored the voice you gave the frog in the story. I should let you handle that activity all the time.”</p><p>
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</p><p>The gold, orange, and cerulean colors of the late afternoon sky dazzled above the priest and nun as they waited outside the community center for Mr. Murphy to come pick them up. They were standing side by side, with Father Siebren continuously raising and lowering his heels.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“It’s no problem at all, Father.” Sister Moira glanced to the side and noticed the priest’s cheery disposition. “I’m just glad to see that you and Rory left on good terms.” She then turned to Father Siebren and smirked. “You are so easy to read.”</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>“What do you mean by that, Sister?” Father Siebren dropped performing sprightly mannerisms and looked at her.</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>“Well, I sensed a bit of envy when you saw me with Rory. You’re not very good at hiding your sulky behavior.” She teased.</p><p>
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</p><p>“I… I wasn’t sulking!” Father Siebren’s face turned a bright shade of red and quickly looked the other way. “I was just making sure he was… Alright.”</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>“You don’t have to be embarrassed about it.” Sister Moira placed her hand below her mouth as she laughed. “To be honest, I find it endearing.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Endearing?” The priest asked with a curious tone, returning his attention to the red-headed nun. “That’s… An interesting way of seeing it.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Yes. It’s kind of sweet that you get a bit jealous when Rory starts making new friends. He told me that among all the people in this town, you’re the only person he can count on. So I can understand that him suddenly letting me into his circle can be quite shocking for you.”</p><p>
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</p><p>"You are correct to say that." Father Siebren placed his hands behind his back and observed the brilliant colors that harmoniously blended with the indigo canvas sky. "But I'm glad that you reached out to him." He said with a gentle smile. "Rory is a great guy who has trouble making friends. A  lot of people are apprehensive to get to know him. So seeing you befriend him makes me hopeful that the others will be encouraged to do the same."</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>Sister Moira observed the smile on the priest’s face. Her expression softened when she noticed how genuine the priest felt about her friendship with Rory. However, her heart suddenly sank when she needed to ask him,</p><p>
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</p><p>"Father, do you know why the townsfolk aren't fond of Rory?" She said, immediately shifting her gaze towards the ground.</p><p>
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</p><p>"Well, Rory has an alcohol problem and he can get pretty violent when he drinks too much." He answered without batting an eye. "But he mentioned earlier that he hasn't drank a single drop since we last spoke. And I am very proud of him for that."</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>"Any other reasons besides those two?"</p><p>
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</p><p>Father Siebren rubbed his chin and thought for a moment. "None that I could think of." The priest took a quick glance at the nun and saw how uncomfortable she looked. She was clasping her hands tightly and her eyes were lost staring at the ground. "Sister? Is everything alright?"</p><p>
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</p><p>Sister Moira darted her eyes on the priest.  "Father, are you aware of Ireland’s standing during the war?”</p><p>
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</p><p>“... I believe I do not, Sister.”</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>Sister Moira looked up and allowed her mind to wander in the dazzling colors of the late afternoon sky. As she was lost in her own thoughts, Father Siebren quickly glanced at the nun and observed her eyes. Her heterochromatic orbs were moving in such a way that it was like she was using her eyes to write something in the air. He knew that her response would be serious.</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>“Ireland remained neutral during the war.” She said, blinking at the priest. “Taoiseach Éamon de Valera didn’t want us to get involved with conflicts of big powers, but his decision didn’t sit well with many others. Thousands of Irish men and women volunteered to fight against the Axis powers, and Rory was one of them.” Sister Moira took a short pause before continuing. “Did Rory ever mention that he was serving in the Irish Army before the war started?”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Yes, he has!” Father Siebren answered promptly. “He told me that joining your country’s military was one of the proudest moments in his life. He said that becoming a soldier meant that he was able to do more in terms of protecting his family and country. I’ve never met anyone as patriotic as him before.”</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>“A lot of people might’ve thought so too.” Sister Moira said with a heavy sigh. “But tell me, how do you think a soldier in the Irish Army was able to fight in the war if Ireland remained neutral?”</p><p>
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  <br/>
</p><p>Father Siebren was surprised by her question. Now that the nun has told him about Ireland’s neutrality during the war, it never crossed his mind how Rory was able to fight against the Third Reich. Sister Moira knew that the priest couldn’t give her an answer; she can see it in his confused expression.</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>“In order to fight in the war, Rory and thousands of Irish soldiers served as volunteers in the British Army… And for many Irish, their decision to join the British was an act of treason.” </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“Treason!?” Father Siebren said with a noticeable throaty growl in his voice. “How can it be treason? We were at war! Any help we could get to put a stop to that madman’s plans was a godsend!”</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>“Rory may have thought so too.” Sister Moira said in a soft tone, hoping that her gentle voice would calm him down. “But Irish and British relations have always been… Troubling. We’ve been at each other’s throats for almost eight centuries, and I fear that it’ll take several more before our wounds can heal. And this is one of the reasons why many of the Irish who fought in the war are considered to be deserters and traitors to their country. Which is why the people here are apprehensive to even talk to him.”</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>Father Siebren was devastated to learn how Rory was being treated by the people of Tralee. As an outsider, he was astounded by the amount of kindness and generosity the townsfolk had shown him. He had thought that the people always saw the good in others even if they weren’t from their town. But ostracizing one of their own because of his decision to join the British Army during a trying time did not sit well in his stomach.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Thank you for sharing this with me, Sister.” Father Siebren huffed, releasing as much heat from anger that was building up in his lungs. “I’ll have a word with the others. I can ask Kayleigh to help me set up—”</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>“No!” Sister Moira quickly cut him off. “That’s the last thing he wants. He doesn’t want to be patronized, especially by the church. He said that it’ll make him look bad.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Then what should we do?” Father asked, raising his tone once more. “We both know that Rory doesn’t deserve to be treated this way.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Then treat him the way like you always have!” Sister Moira raised her voice as well to counter the priest’s booming voice. When she felt the rush of anger warm her cheeks, she took a step back to collect herself. Once she was calm, she spoke. “Treat him… Like a friend…” She said. “That’s all he asks.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Seeing the nun quickly control her fury and return into a state of calm took Father Siebren aback. He swore that he saw Sister’s eyes light up with the fire of her rage. But he quickly dropped the thought. <em> I shouldn’t be concerned about that now.  </em></p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>“Rory is grateful to have someone in this place who would never judge his actions. He also finds comfort in you because of all the people in Tralee, you know what it’s like to be caught up in the middle of a war.”</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>“He… He told you that?”</p><p>
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</p><p>Sister Moira nodded; a caring smile drawn upon her face.</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>“...Rory…” Father Siebren whispered before returning his gaze to the sky and looking content. “Alright, Sister. I will respect Rory’s wishes. After all, that’s what friends do, right?”</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>The smile on the priest’s face was all Sister Moira needed to tell her that Father Siebren respected Rory’s boundaries. She can also see it in his eyes that he is ready to strengthen his friendship with Rory to ensure that he’ll always feel accepted in Tralee.</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>“I should also say my thanks to you, Sister Moira.” Father Siebren said; his words more gentle. “It’s nice that Rory now has two people he can count on. I think it also brings him comfort knowing that there’s an Irish person who enjoys his company.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Sister Moira felt the color of her cheeks turned into a tinge of light pink. “Think nothing of it, Father.” Her voice shook as she turned away to hide her bashful expression. “No one deserves to be treated like an outcast.”</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>---</p><p>
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</p><p>By the time Father Siebren and Sister Moira returned to the church, the colors of the evening sky had already blanketed over the church grounds. The light of the quarter moon radiated around it, causing the nearby stars to awake with a shimmer. The wind was cool but silent, and the shadows of the rustling greenery left a soft silhouette on the church’s driveway. The atmosphere was calming and soothing to the mind and body accelerating the tiredness Father Siebren and Sister Moira felt in their bones. It was a long and exhausting day, and both of them just wanted to retreat to their quarters and wrap themselves in the comfort of their beds. Unfortunately for the priest, his day hasn't ended. Because as soon as he got off Mr. Murphy's truck and assisted the nun to unload their items,  Father Baptiste came running out of the seminary, hollering his name. </p><p>
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</p><p>"Father Siebren!" Father Baptiste shouted at the top of his lungs. "Father Siebren!"</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Father Siebren placed a finger over his mouth to sush his fellow priest when he saw him running towards him. "Father Baptiste! " He said with a soft yet firm voice. "It's already late, you shouldn't be screaming like that. You might wake Mrs. Murphy up!"</p><p>
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</p><p>"I'm sorry," Father Baptiste huffed, trying to catch his breath, "it's just that Father Harold told me he wanted to see you as soon as you returned. "</p><p>
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</p><p><em> Harold!? </em>"What about him?"</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>"I can’t say, but he said it was urgent."  Father Baptiste gasped to take in as much air as he can before letting it all out in one steady blow. "He's in his room waiting for you."</p><p>
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</p><p>It was rare for Father Harold to ask for Father Siebren's presence with such urgency. During the times he had called upon him in such a manner was when Father Harold needed help in resolving pressing matters in the town—most of which revolved around Rory's drunken episodes. However, this time it was different. Something in Father Siebren's gut told him so.</p><p>
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</p><p>He quickly glanced behind him and saw that there was still so much work to be done. He needed to help Mr. Murphy and Sister Moira bring the dirty pots and cooking utensils to the kitchen and wash them. He didn't want to abandon this responsibility now, especially when Sister Moira did most of the work when they visited the community center earlier. </p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>"It's okay, Father. I'll take care of it." </p><p>
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</p><p>Even when her voice was cracking from exhaustion and the tiredness that was visible in her puffy eyes, Sister Moira was still willing to carry the majority of their tasks.</p><p>
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</p><p>Father Siebren was delighted that Sister Moira still had the initiative to help. But he didn't want her to get stuck doing all the work alone again.  Nevertheless, he knew he didn't have much time and shouldn't let this chance pass.</p><p>
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</p><p>"I owe you big time, Sister!" Father Siebren said with haste before scurrying inside the seminary.</p><p>
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</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Father Siebren did not hold back and bolted to Father Harold's quarters. He did not let the seminary's winding steps and corridors coax him into taking a few seconds of rest. A million things were running through his head and they were moving just as fast as he was. He couldn't think straight because the worry that churned his thoughts made him feel lightheaded and almost sick to his stomach. And yet, a part of him still hoped that whatever Father Harold was going to tell him would get rid of the way he was feeling. But when he swung the door open to his fellow priest’s room, he lost whatever little hope he had. </p><p>
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</p><p>“Ah, Siebren…” Father Harold looked at his friend with melancholic eyes. “I’m glad you’re able to catch me before I leave.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Father Harold was sitting on his bare bed. The beddings were neatly folded at the corner of his room and were placed next to his luggage. His cabinet’s doors were left open, revealing its hollow and empty interior. The rest of the priest’s bags were placed on top of his table and chair. And after looking around his fellow priest’s room, Father Siebren returned his gaze to his friend.</p><p>
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</p><p>“You’re… You’re leaving?” Father Siebren said with his mouth trembling. “Tonight!?”</p><p>
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</p><p>Father Harold attempted to say something, but slowly closed his mouth shut. He looked down at the cobblestone floor of his room and just nodded. Father Siebren was facing the same dilemma, leaving the room drowning in silence. </p><p>
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</p><p>The silence these two priests left didn’t bother them at first. However, after a minute had passed, Father Harold couldn’t take it any longer. He looked at his friend with a smile and patted the mattress. “Come, have a seat.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Father Siebren’s daze broke when he heard Father Harold’s voice. He then exhaled from his nose and obliged with his friend’s request.</p><p>
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</p><p>“I can’t believe you’re leaving.” Father Siebren sighed as he sat down on the bed. “Why is everything happening so suddenly?”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Well, the bishop didn’t give us an exact date, remember?” Father Harold leaned back and sat more comfortably on his bed. “But that really is the least of my worries. I’m more concerned about the nuclear waste in their coastline. I don’t want to return here with blue skin.” He chuckled to help lighten the mood.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Why so suddenly?” Father Siebren sighed, ignoring his fellow priest’s quip. “I was hoping that you’d stay for a few weeks and help me adjust.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Adjust to what?” Father Harold patted his friend’s shoulder and gave him a big smile. “Siebren, the people here adore you and for the record, you haven’t done anything to displease me or the church. You don’t need my help.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“But taking care of this church is a huge responsibility!” Father Siebren grieved with his eyes full of worry. “I’ve had moments of confidence where I know that I won’t let the people of Tralee down, but at the same time, I have no idea what to expect in the future. I’m scared, Harold!”</p><p>
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</p><p>Father Harold witnessed the worry in his friend's eyes turn to immense fear,  and quickly placed both his hands on Father Siebren’s shoulders to give him support. “Hey, Siebren. Look at me.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Father Siebren’s eyes were trembling but focused on his fellow priest’s calm expression. His fear gradually disappeared, but his worry still lingered.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Siebren, I chose you for a reason. Aside from your experience, your friendly nature will keep the church open and welcoming for everyone. You always see the good in people, and never judge them wholly for what they’ve done. And even though you’re suffering from your own demons, you do what you can to help others conquer their own. I’m confident that you’ll do great, Siebren and you’ll do our Lord proud.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Father Siebren was left speechless after hearing those words. It surprised him that Father Harold, just like Rory, thought of him as someone who was admirable. His friends and the people in Tralee all believed that he could handle the responsibilities of taking care of their beloved church. Maybe this time around he can put a little faith in himself too.</p><p>
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</p><p>“T… Thank you, Harold.” He said with tears welling up in his eyes. “I’ll make you all proud.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Hey, there’s no need to cry now.” Father Harold wiped the tears from his friend’s eyes with his thumbs. “I don’t want to depart in such a gloomy mood.” He chuckled, returning to his seat next to Father Siebren. “Let’s lighten it up, hm? I know! Tell me how your day in the community center went? I’m sure you and Sister Moira had a lot of fun.”</p><p>
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</p><p>The silence that once shrouded Father Harold’s quarters was immediately dissipated by the sounds of the priests’ laughter and their engaging conversation. After receiving encouraging words from his fellow priest, Father Siebren did not let his doubts pester him that night and focused on the time he was sharing with Father Harold. Everything was going well. Father Siebren was able to tell Father Harold how the people of Tralee accepted his new role and how he and Rory were starting to further strengthen their friendship. He also told him how Sister Moira handled everything while he was concentrating on Rory. However, their time together only lasted for 30 minutes. Because after Father Siebren was done sharing what had transpired in the community center, their attentions were caught by a vehicle that was pulling up to the driveway. They heard its horn beeping three times to announce that Father Harold’s ride had arrived.</p><p>
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</p><p>Father Harold turned to his window and released a defeated sigh. “So, care to help me with my bags?” He said as he returned his attention to his friend.</p><p>
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</p><p>As Father Siebren and Father Harold walked downstairs to the seminary’s greeting area, they saw Sister Agnes and Father Baptiste waiting for them. Once they stepped off the stairs, they placed the bags they were carrying on the floor and said their goodbyes. Sister Agnes quickly approached Father Siebren and gave him a tight hug.</p><p> </p><p>“Take care of Sister Moira and Father Liam for me, okay? They can be a handful, but their hearts are in the right place.” She said.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Of course, Sister Agnes!” Father Siebren patted her shoulder. “They’ll be safe and taken care of here.”</p><p>
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</p><p>After a few more goodbyes, Father Siebren and Father Baptiste assisted the nun and their fellow priest to the vehicle and loaded all of their luggage. Then, with one last wave, Father Harold told the driver that they were ready to go. Father Siebren and Father Baptiste kept their eyes on the vehicle until it completely left the compound. They stood at the entrance until the feeling of melancholy disappeared.</p><p>
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</p><p>“<em> Ahem </em>.” Father Baptiste cleared his throat to get his fellow priest’s attention. “It’s getting late, Father Siebren. I think it’s best that we head inside now.”</p><p>
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</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> [Gabriel Faure - Elegie Op. 24] </em>
</p><p> </p><p>With a heavy heart, Father Siebren lingered his way to his quarters. With the church missing one of its three core members, he knew that dealing with the change will be challenging. But he kicked up some speed when he recalled the conversation he had with Father Harold earlier. There is a reason why his fellow priest chose him, and it gave him great comfort knowing that Father Harold believed in him. </p><p>
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</p><p>When he swung open the door to his room, his body was ready to be received by the comfort of his bed. However, his preparation to sleep was suddenly interrupted when he saw Sister Moira staring out the window.</p><p>
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</p><p>Confused, Father Siebren closed the door behind him and slowly approached the nun. “S- Sister Moira! I’m surprised to see you here. Have you forgotten which side of the seminary your quarters are or…”</p><p>
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</p><p>“They’re gone now, right?” Sister Moira spat.</p><p>
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</p><p>Father Siebren was taken aback by the manner in how she delivered her words but paid no heed to them. “I… I beg your pardon?”</p><p>
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</p><p>“I asked if they were gone now!” Sister Moira turned to him with her heterochromatic eyes gleaming with an unknown fire that was blazing in her.</p><p>
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</p><p>It took a moment for the priest to respond. He was still shocked seeing Sister Moira in an almost feral demeanor. “Yes… Yes, they’ve left. But what does that have to do with you being in my room?”</p><p>
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</p><p>All of a sudden, Sister Moira placed a hand over her mouth and started snickering. Her snickers gradually turned into an uncontrollable cackle, scaring the priest in the process.</p><p>
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</p><p>“...Sister…?”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Finally, that man is gone!” She howled.</p><p>
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</p><p>As she continued spreading her menacing laughter in the priest’s quarters, her true form was slowly being revealed in front of Father Siebren. Bit by bit her habit burned away, unveiling her goat legs and sharp fingernails. Her veil then followed suit, showing her ram-like horns that radiated with the moonlight. Once her entire facade was lifted, all of Father Siebren’s hope and optimism was immediately consumed by terror.</p><p>
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</p><p>“No… It can’t be… You possibly can’t be!” He cried.</p><p>
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</p><p><br/>“Well hello there, my little pet.” The Mistress sneered. “I’ve missed you so much!”</p><p> </p><p>                                                                          </p>
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